Same old song and dance
by draxal
Summary: A new threat comes to Crowley Heights, a new sect of satanists with an agenda and a score to settle.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

When Eugene Schenkel was thirteen he'd been a loser. A tall, gangly, pimple faced teenager lacking in social skills. An angry, sullen child who turned into an angry, sullen teenager who regularly experienced the sort of mood swings that would have triggered alarms in more attentive parents. When he was fourteen and loitering in a local music store he heard the song that would change his life forever. When the rumbling bass, the arrhythmia-causing tempo and the deep-throated vocals of Danzig's Lucifuge blared over the store speakers, Eugene was snared.

He spent his high school years striving to emulate his idol. The God-like physique, the glowering, brooding disdain for social conservatism. A single-minded focus on weight lifting and body building that had the bullies who had tormented him cowering in respectful fear four years later.

The words of the songs became his mantra. _I Am Demon. Apokalips. Dominion. Belly of the Beast. Bringer of Death_. His skeptism of his father's Jewish faith turned to loathing. If there was a God - - and he did believe there was, because without good there could be no evil - - he was an undeserving one. Lucifer was his almighty.

He spent the summer of '94 following the Danzig 4 tour. It was there, after a show in his home state of New York, that he met a few fellow minded Doom Metal enthusiasts. When they took him to the basement of an old abandoned brownstone and introduced him to the world of organized anti-religion in the form of a group of eight, tattooed, doom espousing worshippers of Lucifer, Eugene had finally found his calling. A tight knit group of cronies who believed the same things he believed, who listened to the same music, who enjoyed killing things now and then and immersing themselves in the blood of their sacrifices. Who despised the world at large and longed for the chaos that hell on earth would bring.

Their little cult was only one of a network of brotherhoods around the world who worshipped their dark lord under the noses of polite society. Some of them were organized, secretive little societies whose members lived in suburban houses and held 9 to 5 jobs. Some were outcasts, spewing death and destruction in their wakes, going from city to city, leaving their bloody handprints for the local law to puzzle over.

The one thing they all had in common was the general knowledge and belief that one day their patience would be rewarded when the powers of evil were finally unleashed to ravish the world. In all the diverse myth and lore, one thing held true, that that was the existence of the Book of Pure Evil. The ultimate weapon in the arsenal of Lucifer. The Holy Grail to the worshippers of the Dark Lord.

By the time Eugene was 25, he'd changed his name to Draxal Gottslayer (which he thought sounded appropriately Germanic and apocalyptic at the same time), and had elevated himself to the head of his growing brotherhood. Thirty members strong, and they'd all filed into the den of dark worship in Hoboken one Friday night to find their former cult leader dismembered and disemboweled, his entrails arranged inside and around the pentagram etched into the stone floor they used for their ceremonies. Draxal had stood in the center, knives still in hand, those muscles he'd worked so hard for, glistening with sweat and blood.

He was voted in as the new leader of the Hoboken satanic sect without dissent.

Draxal was smart, he was clever and most importantly he was brutal in the pursuit of his goals. He ran a music store that sold refurbished stereos and old vinyl, heavy metal shirts and gear, black lights and posters. Anything your teenaged or not so teenaged hard rocker would find appealing enough to spend money on. Under the glass at the counter he kept his own personal obsessions, a wicked collection of daggers and bladed weapons.

Draxal liked to think of himself as a jack of many trades.

At thirty-seven he still worked out daily to maintain the intimidating, muscle-bound physique that got him laid on a regular basis by girls half his age. He treated them like trash, of course, but then women, he found, as a general rule, tended to flock towards guys who couldn't give less of fuck about impressing them.

Which was why when the girl showed up at the store one day, casually running her fingers across the rack of t-shirts, he gave her a disdainful leer and turned back to sharpening one of his knives. He watched her from the corner of his eye; she was a hot little number, with long black hair and black leather pants so tight it seemed they were painted on. She had on a mutilated Danzig t-shirt - - which fact alone sent her up a notch on the hotness scale. A fucking hot little piece of ass, and he absently rubbed his swelling balls through his jeans as she drifted through the store.

There was a kid in the store, a wanna be rocker that still lived at home with mommy and daddy if the braces he was sporting were any indication. But then kids that lived with mommy and daddy usually had money to burn. The kid was watching her too, staring at her ass with wide eyes as she bent to look at a pair of black lace up boots on a rack by the floor.

She turned around and looked at the kid, and Draxal didn't catch her expression, but the kid's face paled and he almost knocked a display over in his haste to scramble to the door.

"Watch it, you little turd - -" Draxal snarled, but the kid was long gone, the doorbell chiming in his wake.

The girl casually followed and Draxal thought she was leaving too, but all she did was turn the latch, flip the 'open' sign to 'closed', then turn to face him.

"What the fuck, bitch?"

She lifted one dark brow and in her smoldering gaze he saw something he hadn't seen directed at him in a woman's eyes since he was fourteen. Disdain.

"We need to talk, Eugene," she purred.

He straightened up, offended. "The names Draxal. Draxal Gottslayer and you can get the fuck out of my store."

"I don't think so." She strode forward, all swaying hips and perky tits and forcing his gaze back up to her face was like fighting gravity.

"Bitch, you don't know the depths of the shit you're about to step in," he said threateningly. Draxal could be damned threatening when he focused his scowl and flexed his impressive upper torso.

Her smile was canine, like a jackal, deadly and beautiful. No, not a jackal. A wolf. And from one step to the next she melted, morphing from a black clad girl of the hottest degree to a huge, silver coated wolf. And not the sort of wolf you saw people keeping as pet, the hybrids and the tame half-breeds - - but like something that never stepped foot outside the deepest of primordial forests. Huge and blue-eyed and staring right through his eyes into the depraved depths of his soul.

The wolf grinned at him. A wolf's grin, with teeth as long as the girl's fingers that could shred flesh as easily as any of his knives. Its great claws clicked on the scuffed tile floor as it padded around the counter and stood staring at him.

Draxal's fingers were numb on the hilt of the knife. If it had been a normal, mundane wolf, he might have braced himself for a fight. But this wasn't mundane and yellow wolf eyes flashed with a glint of hellfire that made his cock rock hard in his pants.

Two more strides right up to where he sat frozen and the wolf shifted, fur and teeth and claws melting back into soft female flesh and silky black hair.

"Would you like to talk now?" she purred.

Draxal gaped. In all his years worshipping the dark lord, in all his satanic ceremonies and his faithful sacrifices, all his research into satanic history, he'd never seen anything remotely supernatural. He'd waited all his life for it. Patient and faithful that one day, his devotion would be rewarded.

He laid the knife carefully on the counter and stood, nodding.

"Who are you?"

She slid right up to him, close enough to smell the scent of some night blooming flower in her hair, the smell of something wild and wicked on her skin. He was hard under his jeans, erection straining against denim. She looked down, noting it, then cast her eyes back up at him.

"You can call me, Nikki," she said.

"_What_ are you?"

"What do you think I am, lover?"

"A she-demon." He breathed, praying it was so.

Her smile widened and she shrugged. "Close enough.

He felt like dropping down to his knees in front of her in gratification. All these years - - all these years and here she was. He held firm and braced his feet, putting one arm on the counter to casually show off the bulging contours of his arm. She lifted a hand and ran fingertips from his wrist to his shoulder appreciatively.

"You're needed, Draxal Gottslayer, to right an unfortunate wrong."

He straightened, a thrill of excitement rushing though him. "What wrong?"

Her smile was like sex and sin. "Show me your temple, Draxal."

Denying her anything was beyond him. He took her downstairs to the basement where he and his sect practiced their dark devotions. Shag carpet around the edges where there were couches and a mini bar, and a flat screen TV flush against one wall. The center of the floor was cement, with a inverted pentagram stained here and there with blood and black candle wax. Other trappings lined the walls, satanic symbols, posters, icons.

Nikki walked around the pentagram, then stopped across from it and looked at him.

"The prophecy has come to fruition. The Book has chosen a Master, "

"By Lucifer," he gasped, excitement bubbling up. Then it occurred to him that hell had not risen up to wash the world in its chaos. That the world was very much like it had always been. Hellish, yes, but not the sort of hell that he and his kind prayed for.

She waited until that notion sank in before she padded across the symbol on the floor. Slim fingers reached out and traced the outline of his erection.

"Yeah," she said. "The Pure Evil One fucked us. He laughed in the face of the prophecy and instead of bringing about the end of this age, he stabbed us in the back."

Draxal gaped at her, trying to wrap his mind around that astounding concept at the same time his cock was being stroked. He was having a hard time juggling those two things simultaneously.

"How?"

She shrugged. "He banished the Book. It's gone."

He blinked, cock deflating at that terrible statement.

She sighed and withdrew her hand. "It's not a total loss. We can get it back. You can get it back."

"How?"

"The satanic sect of Crowley Heights is in shambles. Nothing but a town full of closet worshipers and doddering old geezers that were entrusted with the safeguarding of the Book - - and failed."

"Crowely Heights? Never heard of it."

"No reason you should have. It's a little piss ant of a town that's only saving grace - -" And she smiled, showing sharp little canines. "Is that it lies at the intersection of powerful ley lines. It's a place of power and a place where blood has drenched the land over the millennia. For the last century the book has been there - - in one form or another - - waiting for the moment when the Pure Evil One would accept its power. And when he did, he chose to cast that honor aside."

Draxal couldn't conceive of such utter disregard. Of such utter stupidity. "You want me to kill him?"

"That's an option, but no. We need him. Without is master, the Book might disappear for another few millennia and we're so bored with waiting."

"We? The dark overlord and his minions?"

She shrugged noncommittally and leaned in, tits brushing his chest, fingers skimming up his arm. "The Pure Evil One banished the book and the only way to bring it back is through him. There's a ritual that we can't perform, requiring things we can't touch, that will shatter his control and allow the Book to find its way back."

"And you want me to perform this ritual?"

"Only the most faithful of the dark lord's followers is capable. And you, are more capable than most. Crowley Heights needs a new satanic sect to replace the useless idiots that were supposed to safeguard the Book."

"You want me to uproot all my shit and drag all my guys to some bumfuck town I never heard of - -"

She dropped to her knees, looking up at him from crotch level. Her hands skimmed the fly of his jeans and he swallowed back further complaint. He remembered her teeth when she'd been the wolf and a shiver of excitement went through him at the prospect of flirting with the danger of her mouth around his cock.

"If the Pure Evil One won't use the book the way it was meant to be used - - then we'd prefer if using it all became unpleasant. Without the hand of a master, we may not be able to bring about the conflagration, but there are other ways to bring about chaos and the Book is the key."


	2. Chapter 1

**1**

Todd smith was of the opinion that life sucked balls. Big hairy balls.

Now this was no particularly novel feeling for a seventeen year old - - a good portion of the world's population of teens had at one point or another entertained the notion that life was a sinking pit of despair, but Todd had better reasons than most for his gloomy disposition. He wasn't bemoaning a curfew - - his mother didn't enforce one - - or the denial of some cherished item that he had to have at the threat of his very existence - - though he supposed Jenny Kolinsky did qualify on that account. He wasn't particularly bullied at school, or hounded at home or any of the infinite things that normal teens cried foul over - - those things didn't make a blip on his radar in comparison to his real problems.

Discovering he was the prophesied bringer of doom, the master of a malevolent Book of infinite power, the Pure Evil One whose coming had apparently been foretold for millennia, sort of trumped those other issues. And that wasn't even the worst part. He'd killed one of his closest friends - - and lost his best friend in the process and that was a whole hell of a lot more depressing than having his mom confiscate all his bongs. He could live without his bongs - - there were other ways to smoke weed, after all - - living without his friends was a lot tougher.

Even Jenny was gone, whisked away by her mom to the city for the summer, in an attempt to hash out their differences. And he knew - -just felt it in his bones that he could have finally gotten somewhere with her if she'd been here. He'd come so close at the dance before all the shit had hit the fan. Afterwards, there hadn't been a lot of time or inclination, dealing with Hannah's funeral, and the whole town trying to clean up after the freak storm of all freak storms had cut a swath through Crowley Heights.

That had been his fault, too. His drawing power from the Book, losing himself in it for those few terrible moments before Jenny had snapped him out of it and he'd channeled that power inward instead of out and winked the book out of existence. And taken Hannah's life with it, none of them knowing how intimately she'd been connected to the Book. They still didn't know how or why, but none of that mattered to Curtis, who couldn't get over the simple fact that Todd banishing the book had killed her.

Three weeks into summer vacation. Five weeks since she'd died and Curtis still wasn't talking to him. And Todd had tried, even after Curtis began actually going to all his classes, quiet and withdrawn, just sort of ducking his head and muttering excuses when Todd tried to talk to him in the halls. Every time he'd shown up at Curtis house, he'd gotten turned away, his mom citing this excuse or that, none of which Todd really believed, because he'd never been turned away before. Then on the last day of school, when he had caught Curtis cleaning out his locker, an excuse for conversation already planned out in his head - - the amazing fact that he'd miraculously managed to slide by with a roster of 'D's' and wouldn't be attending summer school after all - - Curtis had finally snapped.

"And it's all about you again, isn't it?" Curtis had yelled at him. "It's always about you and your problems and what you want and unless its Jenny, you don't even notice that other people exist. You never listen to me. I'm just this freak who follows you around and does the stuff you wanna do, whether I wanted to or not. You made me that freak - -" and he waved his metal prosthesis in Todd's face in emphasis - -" and I even let that slide. There were times I actually put you before her and I can't believe I did - - "

"That's not true." he'd protested. "You're my best friend - -"

"And Hannah was my girlfriend and she's dead because of you. You don't get it, do you? I loved her and she's dead and I don't know if I can look at you right now without wanting to - - to - -" Curtis clenched his fists, the robotic metal one making a crunching sound as he did, his face red and his eyes wet around the edges and save that one Book influenced time, Todd had never seen him so on the verge of angry violence.

He'd stood there, swallowing, bruised to the bone, until Curtis slammed his locker, stalking past, brushing him hard with his shoulder. And it wasn't true. He _did_ get it. He'd had nightmares about it, four nights out of seven since the semi-formal. Hannah's body, and Curtis' tear stained face and Jenny's horror filled eyes. And he _did_ listen to Curtis, more than anybody. Curtis was like his other half - - not in a mushy way - - but just so in sync that they hardly even had to do more then exchange looks and they knew what the other was thinking. No one knew him like Curtis knew him, not his mom, not Jenny, who thought he was a moron more often than not, not anybody. And he'd thought he knew Curtis, but he'd been caught pretty badly off guard when Curtis had blamed him for Hannah. He hadn't really thought of it that way until Curtis rammed the idea home. Now he couldn't think of it any other way. His fault. Her death on his shoulders. A terrible, terrible burden to carry for a kid whose favorite pastime was skipping class and getting high.

So summer, this last summer before senior year and hopeful graduation, was turning out to be a pretty suckey one. No Curtis to laze away the days with, no Jenny to pursue, no easy ride with his parents this year, since his step dad had gotten laid off and his mom had started bitching about finding a summer job if he wanted to keep his cell phone and his high speed internet. Since loosing either of those would make life more miserable than it already was, and that wasn't even counting the acquisition of the weed that was essential to his very existence, he was forced to find a summer job.

The options for exciting summertime opportunities in Crowley high were few and far between so he ended up working four mornings a week for a local landscaping service. It wasn't like his skill set was developed enough to qualify him for more entertaining or interesting work. There were no listings in the classifieds asking for applicants skilled in fighting monsters spawned by an ancient and malevolent book of evil, which he was, it turned out, pretty good at. He'd looked, just to make sure.

Not that it mattered. With the Book gone, it had taken its reign of blood and ill luck with it. It had been a pretty boring month since it had gone and the town of Crowley Heights had gone back to being plain old boring.

Ironic in the suckiest of ways, that he was reduced to cutting grass and raking mulch when not that long ago, he'd held the fate of the world in his hands. If he'd have made a different choice this little bumfuck town - - a good portion of the world even - - might still be burning. Hell revisited on earth. At least that's what he'd been told by various parties interested in bringing about that end. Batshit crazy parties.

So he didn't have Curtis to talk to. And Jenny only occasionally replied to his texts and even less occasionally actually answered her phone, busy doing whatever it was she was doing in the city. She was only an hour and a half's drive away but it might as well have been a thousand miles for a kid whose primary mode of transportation was a bike.

He didn't even have Jimmy to talk to, the once school janitor having taken off to parts unknown after the book generated curse that had trapped him inside the high school for the last sixteen years had been broken. Todd couldn't much blame him for that, though. If he wasn't seventeen and virtually penniless - - Mr. Gonzalos didn't pay much and pot wasn't free - - he'd be tempted to leave Crowley Heights in the dust, too.

But, if wishes were weed he'd be eternally stoned, so he was stuck doing grunt landscaping for the summer in a town that had blissfully reverted back to bland normalcy.

Well, except for all the Satanists. The town had been founded by them decades ago and was crawling with them. But they were mostly shooting blanks nowadays, wanking off in their basements or creeping around in the old folks homes without any real power now that the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under them. No Book of Pure Evil to jones after, no Atticus Murphy senior or junior to egg them along - -not that the Jr Atticus had been particularly competent at the job of Satanic leader. And Todd had damn sure been responsible for that - - he hesitated to say death - - because he wasn't sure the former Guidance councilor/satanic leader was actually dead, just consumed by the Book. Regardless, that one Todd was willing to take full credit for. He did sort of feel bad for the man though, all things considered. Atticus had been a douche, but he hadn't had much more a choice, being what he was, born and raised by a cult of crazy Satanists, than Todd had, chosen by the Book to be its master.

He ran his rake once more across the mound of mulch he'd just dumped under one of the trees out in front of the high school. Mr. Gonzales had the contract for grounds maintenance for the school and Todd supposed it was better actually getting paid to be here during a perfectly good summer day, than being forced to attend summer classes. The kids trudging across the grounds of the hallowed halls of Crowley high looked pretty demoralized.

Obviously he was a glutton for punishment, because he kept hoping he'd spot Curtis, who was one of those lost souls forced to attend summer classes, if he didn't want to repeat eleventh grade. Curtis couldn't hold onto his grudge forever, right? Sooner or later he had to forgive Todd. It wasn't like either one of them had a whole back up bevy of friends ready to fill the void and it wasn't nearly as fun getting stoned without company.

His back pocket started blaring Children of Bodom's 'Pussyfoot miss Suicide' and his mood perked up.

"Hey, Jenny."

"You called?" she sounded distracted and a little short of patience, but then that was just Jenny. And he _had_ called, more than couple of times, but it had been going to voice mail a lot.

"Yeah. Just, you know, wanted to see what you were up to?" He cringed a little at the desperately hopeful note in his voice.

"Dealing with my mom, is what. God." That last wrung out complaint wasn't directed at him, so he leaned on the rake under the tree and commiserated.

"She being a bitch?"

"Its like its her mission in life," Jenny complained. "Like she has any right to tell me how to live my life after ditching me and dad. Its only dad's insurance money she's interested in."

"That blows," he commiserated, sighing a little at the sound of her voice, even if she did sound annoyed. Jenny's dad, maybe having figured her mom for the disloyal bitch that she was, had named Jenny sole beneficiary of his life insurance, but she couldn't touch it until she was nineteen. Todd didn't know all the knitty gritty details, but he knew Jenny was pissed and not happy to be under the thumb of her mom.

"She doesn't want me around anymore than I want to be around her. She's driving me crazy."

"Sucks for you . . ." he trailed off, wanting to ask if she was coming home, but not sure how not to sound like a desperate loser if he did.

"Soooo - - anything _weird_ happen there lately?"

He let out a breath, relieved at the subject change. "Boring as a box of rocks. Looks like the Book took all the crazy with it when it left. It's back to being the same old tired place it was before."

"Better boring and tired than blood drenched."

"Yeah. I guess."

"And you? Everything nice and normal with you?"

"I'm good. Just - -you know - - doing summer stuff."

"And Curtis? He still pissed at you?"

He leaned a shoulder against the tree, feeling that leaden weight in his gut that came hand in hand with dealing with miserable things. "Yeah. I haven't seen much of him this summer."

"That asshole. I wish I _was_ there to slap him upside the head."

"I dunno, maybe he's got reason - -"

"Oh, shut up," she cut him off with an exasperated hiss. "You're both morons. We've talked about this."

"I know . . . " he toed a chunk of mulch with his sneaker, then took the plunge and blurted out. "I miss you."

She was silent for long enough that he started to cringe, then, softly and little grudgingly. "Yeah. I guess I miss you too."

Which sullen admission made him stand up a little straighter and grin like an idiot. "Really? Soooo - -you coming home soon?"

He could almost hear her shrugging over the line, could imagine her so vividly it hurt. Long dark hair, big angry blue eyes, pouty lips that he knew - - just knew - - would feel so good on any part of his anatomy she might decide to plant them on, if only she'd come home so he could convince her to do so. "I don't know. We're still in the 'discussion' mode of whether she wants to relocate back or sell the house . . ."

"Sell the house?" he choked, horrified. "But - - but that would mean you leaving for good." It was a concept that was too terrible to contemplate.

"Yeah. Like I said, we're in discussion mode."

"Todd Smith!"

He flinched as his name was bellowed and glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Gonzalos shaking his fist at him and yelling at him to get back to work.

He rolled his eyes and turned his back, shielding the phone from easy sight. "I gotta go. Listen, you got to talk her out of it - - please. Call me later, okay?"

"Whatever. Maybe," she said, sounding bored. She liked to torture him.

He stuffed the cell back into the pocket of his cut offs and sighed. If Jenny didn't come back and Curtis hated him - - the future would be one big bleak, suck hole. Mr. Gonzalos cemented that fact into place by yelling at him to start unloading fertilizer from the lawn service's beat up old pickup. Great. Shoveling shit all morning just to get the forty bucks a day the old man parceled out to those desperate enough to slave under his whip. That included high school age kids who needed the work badly enough to take under the table cash with no taxable strings attached.

He was on his way across the parking lot on his last wheelbarrow full of the stinky shit when he saw Curtis. It was either bite the bullet or be a total wuss and he'd faced things a lot more intimidating that Curtis with a grudge.

"Hey, Curtis."

Curtis walked a couple of steps like he hadn't heard, dingy backpack over his shoulder, strap clutched by the metal fingers of the arm Hannah had made for him. It was little beat up and dented what with nobody brainy enough to maintain it around anymore. Curtis had always been banging it up and Hannah had constantly been tweaking it for him and upgrading it with cool gadgets. It was something special, something uber cool and Hannah had made it just for him after his old, regular one had been destroyed. If Curtis broke it now, he'd be up shit creek and back to a dull old normal prosthetic. Todd really, really hoped that never happened.

Another step and Curtis hesitated, finally looking over his shoulder, sort of a pained expression on his round face, before he tightened his lips and jerked his chin a little in Todd's direction.

"Hey." Curtis was shorter than Todd by close to half a head, but he made up for it by being half again wider. He had on an oversized T-shirt with a maniacal eyed, growling teddy bear on the front and baggy black shorts over worn green Converse. It was so good seeing him, it made Todd's stomach flutter a little.

"Sooo - - summer school, huh?" Todd shuffled over, stating the obvious because he couldn't think of anything else to open with, wiping his hands on the front of his black cut offs a little nervously. They'd pretty much figured Curtis would be either doing summer school or repeating the grade last year, even with Hannah trying to tutor him. There'd been a _lot_ of distractions and they'd smoked a _lot_ of weed. Monster killing and being stoned half the year didn't make for stellar grades.

"Yeah," Curtis shifted his metal hand on the backpack. One of the fingers twitched a little of its own accord.

"That sucks, dude. Sorry . . " he bit the end of that apology off, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Umm, well, at least there won't be so many distractions - - y'know monsters and Book shit and all."

Curtis shrugged, mouth softening just a little. "Yeah, well, its not so bad, I've got Ms. Dempsey for two out of three classes and she doesn't want to be here anymore than we do - - so she's giving easy assignments."

"That's cool," he felt a prick of encouragement. "I mean, it would totally suck if I had to go through senior year alone."

Curtis shrugged, looking down at the worn asphalt at his feet. "Yeah, that would suck for you . . ."

Okay, that hurt a little.

"Curtis, I'm . . ." _Don't say sorry, don't say sorry._ "I just - - you know, miss hanging out . . ." he'd been saying that a lot today, all heartfelt and wussy. It was draining, letting all those bottled up feelings out into the light of day.

Curtis looked back up at him, eyes widening that scowl that had been twitching between his brows smoothing out.

"What's the hold up, man?"

Curtis blinked, looking over his shoulder. Todd looked with him, at a tall, lanky blonde haired guy strolling down the sidewalk from the parking lot towards them. Not a guy he recognized. Short, spiky hair, tight worn jeans with a big leather belt sporting a skull and cross bones buckle. Scuffed leather boots, and a black wife beater that showed off arms with an impressive display of tattoos. He looked like he was a couple of years past high school age. He had a little bit of stubble, a ring piercing his left eyebrow and a faint superior smirk on his lips.

"Oh, hey, Randy," Curtis said, eyes lighting up like it was James Hetfield sauntering up instead of some skeezy dude with a cigarette dangling from his thin, smug mouth. Todd hated the guy right then and there.

Randy gave Todd a casual once over, before dismissing him with what Todd had to admit was a cool show of disdain. He turned his pale blue gaze back to Curtis. "So, you wanna go get wasted or stand around here talking to this punk?"

"What?" Todd glared over Curtis' shoulder, offended on multiple levels. The fact that Curtis was getting wasted without him just edging out the insult. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy snorted, not bothering answering in favor of blowing a stream of smoke out his nostrils and flicking ash on the parking lot.

"This is Randy Savage," Curtis piped up. "He's new in town. He's got a Camaro."

Todd glanced in the direction Curtis indicated at a sweet black Camaro. It was shiny vintage, with a sweet red lightning bolt running down the side. The fact that it belonged to this dick unfortunately didn't reduce its appeal.

"You look too old to be in high school."

Randy shrugged. "Got held back a few years. Shit to do, you know? Or maybe you don't."

"And you're hanging with Curtis?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Curtis cast Todd an offended look, but Todd was zeroed in on Randy Savage, like that was a real name. It sounded like the stage name of some lame 80's glam rock singer.

Randy smiled and it was sort of intimidating, like he was looking into the eyes of somebody without a whole lot of conscience.

"Curtis is a cool dude. Not many in this shit-kicker town."

Curtis stood a little taller at the flattery and Todd rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _I_ know that. You just strike me as a douche bag, and douche bags usually hang out with their own kind."

Randy laughed, flicking the butt of his cigarette at Todd's sneakers. It hit the toe of one. He had a little flashback of three other guys who'd always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up - - with good reason, it turned out - - that used to hang out selling pot and porn and various other confiscatable things just outside school grounds.

He kicked it a little ineffectually and stabbed a finger past Curtis. "Are you sure you don't know those three ass hats that used to hang out in the parking lot here?"

Randy snorted, not effected by Todd's belligerent finger stabbing. "I just moved into town, man. Get over yourself. Curtis said you were a self-centered little prick."

"What?" That came out embarrassingly high-pitched. He cast a questioning look at Curtis, hurt and Curtis just shuffled his feet, not meeting his eyes.

"Don't you have shit to shovel?" Randy jerked his chin at the wheelbarrow full of fertilizer and Todd flushed, pissed and embarrassed. Randy snorted, turned his back on him and sauntered off towards the Camaro. Curtis looked up at him once, a sort of baffled expression in his eyes, like shit had gone down that he was at a loss to explain - - and Todd could relate to that feeling - - then turned and shuffled off after his new dickwad of a friend.

Todd flipped the byrd after the Camaro as the car shed rubber tearing out of the parking lot, muttered a few obscenities under his breath before scowling at the patiently waiting wheelbarrow.

He spent the next hour fuming over the injustice, until Mr. Gonzalos called it a day and doled out cash to his employees. Todd stuffed the two rumpled twenties into his pocket and glared balefully at the other two guys on the work crew, who were old enough and smart enough to avoid angry, sullen teenagers.

Curtis wasn't the only one who could go get baked. Todd knew exactly where the best weed for the best prices in Crowley Heights could be found. Down behind the strip mall on Magnolia lane where the guys at the local pet store sold a little homegrown weed out the back alley. They were cool, old potheads who listened the Grateful Dead all day while they peddled tropical fish and reptiles. They grew their own weed in the back room in empty fish tanks under florescent fixtures.

He got his little baggie of buds, hung around a little bit to bullshit with the one old guy with the faded tat of Jerry Garcia on his arm. Just being in the same room with him and smelling the pot exuding from his pores, sort of gave him a contact high. Usually he and Curtis - - he frowned a little at that slip - - usually _he_ would have happily stayed and smoked a joint with them, but he was still out of sorts from the run in with Curtis' _new_ best bud and was feeling the need for some alone time.

There was a big concrete storm drainage ditch a few miles between his house and school, wide enough to drive two cars down side by side, that a lot of kids used to skateboard or to just hang out. He and Curtis used to waste a lot of time there. He stuffed hands in his pockets and headed there.

It wasn't that long of a walk. A half hour maybe if he cut through the big field behind the local home improvement store and the housing projects behind it. He'd squeezed through the fence beyond the field and made it to the two-lane road beyond, when the hairs on the back of his arms stood up. He faltered a little, the strangest feeling washing over him - - a weird sort of awareness of being watched, that made his mouth go dry and his fingers curl a little. He swung around, half expecting someone to be stalking right behind him down the side of the road, but there was nobody there. Just the occasional car and the battered wooden fence across the road providing a little bit of privacy to the apartments beyond. There were just houses on his side of the street, with crappy lawns and bad paint jobs. Nobody even out on their porches watching passerby's.

He blew out a breath, shaking the feeling off. After a year of dealing with the craziest shit imaginable, he was paranoid. There was nobody following him. There were no monsters creeping in the shadows of the suburbs. There was no more Book, and he was just a normal kid again. He'd just had a bad morning. A fucked up, miserable day, what with Curtis finding another best bud and Jenny springing the news that she might not be coming back to Crowley Heights. Ever. It was enough to make him want to puke.

He patted the stash in his pocket and took a determined breath. Getting thoroughly stoned could only make things better.

There was a lone kid on a skateboard at the drainage ditch when he got there. A snotty little goth wannabe that he knew and didn't particularly like, so he kept walking the little service road beside the steep concrete slope of the ditch to get a little distance. He half glanced over his shoulder at the rumble of a car engine approaching from behind and moved a little closer to the edge of the ditch to make room for it to pass him by.

He wished he knew what Jenny was thinking. The workings of her mind baffled him. She'd come so close to kissing him at Semi-formal and then after everything that had gone down, she'd acted like it hadn't happened. Course, all of them - - the survivors of their little gang - - had been pretty shell-shocked. It wasn't like he'd been making smooth moves on her either - - but still - - he thought she'd been coming around. He'd thought she'd finally started liking him the way he liked her - - so why the fuck couldn't she be bothered to actually answer her phone more than one out of four or five calls, or give more than half hearted replies to his texts?

The engine of the car gunned behind him, too loud and too close. He turned, eyes widening as the front end veered towards him. All he saw was dingy grey and the flash of reflection off the windshield as he dove the only way open to him, down the steep incline of the ditch. It wasn't a graceful escape, tumbling down that concrete slope. He skinned an elbow and his knees, and came up hard at the bottom against a pile of debris. Stars danced around the edges of his vision and when he had the breath to do it, he muttered '_motherfucker _. . ' and glared up against the afternoon sun at the silhouetted shape of the car, which had stopped and was idling menacingly at the top of the storm drain ditch.

"What the fuck - -? You asshole - -" He scrambled up, elbow throbbing like crazy. There was a warm trickle of blood running down his right shin. He squinted up at the car, vision clearing enough to make out the jean jacket clad man leaning out the driver's side window. A familiar face. Tight, curly blonde hair and weathered blue eyes. A smaller, darker haired, Asian guy leaned over the back seat window, leering down. Harder to see the third one in the passenger seat, but Todd damn well knew he was there. The Metal Dudes who'd placed him on the path to find the book to begin with. Who were very likely not entirely human and who he'd sort of inadvertently fucked when they'd transformed into their alter ego of a very hot chick, who called herself Nikki Kane. His balls never failed to shrink up a little when he thought about that. He hadn't seen them since he'd sent the book away and foiled their plans of plunging the world into hell baked chaos.

"You douchebags - - what the fuck - - you trying to kill me?"

The Asian, Eddie, leered down at him and taunted. "That'd be too, easy, loser."

Todd narrowed his eyes and glared. He wanted to clutch his throbbing elbow but showing these guys weakness seemed a monumentally bad idea.

The blonde one, Brody, opened his door, sliding out with a metal baseball bat in hand. There was the creek of the passenger door opening and the long, brown haired one, Rob, stepped out, another bat in hand. Eddie laughed, joining them, similarly armed.

"You cross us little dude - -we don't forget." Brody said. "And our bad side is not a side you want to be on."

All bravado aside, getting beat to death in an old sewage ditch, was not high on his list of ways to have a good time. Todd swallowed, eyes wide, and took a backwards step. Another, before he turned and ran, pelting down the debris littered ditch bottom as fast as his bleeding leg would allow. Which was pretty damned fast when there were three maybe demon guys or at the very least humans who'd sold their souls to evil centuries ago, with a score to settle, after him.

He kept running until he reached the big round culvert that the ditch led into, swept up a battered nail studded two by four lying by the entrance and whirled to confront them.

There was no one on his heels. They hadn't followed. The car was gone and so were they.

"Shit . . ." He took a gasping breath and slumped against the curved edge of the concrete culvert, two by four still in hand. Slid down until he was sitting and tried to shake off the adrenalin high that had his hands shaking. He'd thought they'd been gone for good. They'd been kissing up to him for the last year or so, hoping he'd be the answer to their fucked up prayers - - but now what reason did they have to hang around? Payback for him throwing a monkey wrench into their precious prophecy? Not a comforting thought, considering they'd been around for a long, long time and had patience to spare.

He had a huge bruise on his elbow come morning, purple and blue and red and accompanied by a stippling of scrapes from wrist to elbow, and a pretty nasty scrape on his leg from knee to mid shin. It would have been awesome, those war wounds, if he'd had anybody to show them off to. Of course he would have had to alter the story a little, play down his running away like a girl into something a little more heroic.

But it was back to work the next day regardless of aches and bruises. Back at the school to finish up the west side of the grounds. Mindless work, and he had his headphones on, blaring Cannibal Corpse, dark and angry and loud. It fit his mood. Probably because of the Metal Douches, he'd had a book related nightmare last night and it had been a week at least since he'd dreamed about the thing. He couldn't remember the dream exactly, other than waking in a cold sweat, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, the last vestiges of something terrible wisping their way out of his head like dissipating smoke. It had been bad enough that he hadn't even woke with his usual morning boner, which was saying a lot. That had been five am and he'd had no intention of going back to sleep and maybe sinking back into whatever nightmare had plagued him, so he'd opened his window, rolled a joint and let the cannabis soothe raw nerves.

The only benefit was he got to work on time and didn't have to listen to Mr. Gonzalos bitch at him for being late. And it was Friday and he was off for the next three days, so as long as sleep was nightmare free he could laze the mornings away if he wanted.

The parking lot was mostly empty when he got there at the ass crack of morning, but then Mr. Gonzalos liked to start early and school hours started late in the summer. No Camaro, no beat up old Caprice which meant he didn't have to deal with any of the asshats that had plagued him yesterday. The Metal Dudes were a little intimidating when it was three on one, but if Randy Savage got up in his face again, kicking his ass might not be out of the question.

The Camaro pulled into the lot with a roar of eight cylinders under the hood while Todd was dragging a tarp of hedge clippings back to the trailer attached to Mr. Gonzalos beat up old truck. He was prepared to ignore Randy Savage, but he had to stop and stare in something very much akin to sullen resentment when Curtis climbed out of the passenger side. Not only was he getting high with the asshats, he was getting rides to school? How unfair was that? It was a betrayal that sliced Todd to the core. Enough to make him scowl and jerk the tarp with enough agitated force that he lost a good portion of the hedge clippings on the parking lot pavement.

Fanfuckingtastic. So he had to stop now and kick them back on, while Randy and Curtis were heading across the parking lot to the school.

"Dude, what happened to your arm?"

Curtis had veered his way, and it took Todd a second to clear the fumes of indignity from his head and realize that the bruising on his arm was pretty damned obvious, even from a distance.

Todd shrugged, playing it cool.

"What? You get your ass kicked by some little girl?" Randy asked from the sidewalk.

Todd glared, clenching his fists. "Fuck you, douchebag."

Randy grinned at him, and sauntered off towards the school.

Curtis hesitated, a furrow between his brows. "Did you? Get in a fight?"

"No," Todd admitted sullenly, tearing his eyes off Randy's back and fighting back the urge to wish for just a little touch of that all consuming power he'd felt when he'd been channeling the Book. Those sorts of wishes never failed to backfire and the Book hadn't been gone long enough to feel safe taking that sort of risk.

"Oookay," Curtis said slowly, shifting his backpack, ready to turn his back on Todd again.

"The Metal Dudes tried to run me over," he admitted, absently holding the sore arm.

Curtis' eyes widened. "No way. They're back?"

"Guess so."

"I haven't seen them hanging around here."

"Me either."

"What do you mean, tried to run you down?"

Todd shrugged.

"Why?"

"They're pissed I didn't - -y'know - - Destroy the world and stuff."

"Shit," Curtis mouthed, which was Todd's sentiment exactly.

Curtis stared at him a moment longer, frowning, before the faint sound of the morning bell could be heard from the open doors of the school. He glanced that way, then back at Todd. "I thought all this Book related crap was over."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Just be careful, okay, dude?" Curtis warned, before hurrying up the walk towards the school.

Todd rubbed his elbow, wincing a little at one particularly tender spot. Despite that, he felt a lightening of mood. Maybe getting his ass kicked by the Metal Dudes wasn't such a bad thing if it got Curtis to forget the grudge he was holding.


	3. Chapter 2

**2**

The thing about Todd was, that it was easy to hold a grudge when he wasn't around to remind Curtis just how much he missed him. Easy to hold onto grievances when it was just Curtis, wallowing in his own misery. Seeing Todd yesterday and it was all he could do to remember he was supposed to be pissed off, instead of wanting pretty badly to tell Todd about the snake he'd found in the back yard last week, or the awesome mural he'd painted on his bedroom wall, or discuss the new episodes of Metalacolypse, or the stellar idea he'd had about the heavy metal hack and slash video game they'd both been dream planning for the last few years but lacked any ghost of the programming skills needed to bring to life. Any one of a hundred little things that all sounded awesome and brilliant when he talked about them with Todd.

Curtis had never been a deep thinker. He never had been the sharpest tool in the box, but he was affable and easy going and loyal to a fault. He'd never been a popular kid, or even close to it, always being a little clumsy, a little too quick to blurt out less than tactful thoughts as they flitted across his mind, a little red headed and a little fat, which was never a good combination when dealing with the tender mercies of school age kids.

But that was okay, because he'd had Todd who hadn't given a shit about any of Curtis' failings from the day they'd met. Todd who even as a grade schooler was a lot more likely to get up in some bully's face if he was picking on Curtis. For a kid that had been told by his parents on more than one occasion that his injection into the world had been the primary result of a broken condom, finding a friend in Todd had been the best thing that had ever happened in his life. And for some reason, Todd, who hadn't been nearly as socially inept, or redheaded or pudgy had latched onto Curtis like maybe - - just maybe - - he was in as desperate a need.

And Curtis hadn't minded playing the follower, gleefully engaging in the schemes and pranks that Todd generally brewed up. The things Todd liked, he liked. Todd had gotten into Metal and Curtis had developed a taste himself. Todd smoked pot and Curtis was right there at his side. Todd obsessed over a girl and Curtis lamented with him over his lack of success, while his own interest in girls had been sort of a reflexive, afterthought sort of thing. Sure, boobs were amazing things, and porn was wankfastic to watch, but it wasn't like any actual girls had ever even given him a passing glance and Todd's unrequited lusting after Jenny Kolinsky was so overwhelming that it didn't leave a lot of room for Curtis to do anything but sympathize.

But that was okay, because Curtis loved Todd and would have sacrificed anything for him and a love life that probably wasn't going to happen wasn't much of a sacrifice. He forgave Todd all his little unwitting sleights, and Todd did have the tendency to be oblivious to a lot of things, feelings first and foremost, even if he didn't mean to. He even forgave Todd the pot-induced accident that had lost him his arm - - but Hannah - - He couldn't quite get over the loss of her.

Hannah, who'd been quiet and brilliant and little socially inept herself. Hannah who liked him for him, even with all his faults. Hannah who'd been just as red headed as he was, just as awkward and the most amazing girl he'd ever known. Fierce and smart and connected to that damned Book closer than any of them could have known.

Hannah who'd been gentle and thoughtful and had given him the best thing he'd ever gotten in his life, making him a metal, robotic arm that made him feel like a man and a kick ass man at that, instead of a crippled freak. And now she was gone, a casualty to Todd's banishing of the Book. For a long time he'd blamed Todd personally, like it had been a conscious act on his part, a conscious sacrifice. Like he'd had any idea of the consequences of that one act.

Jenny had given him a nasty piece of her mind on the subject before she'd been dragged away by her mom. A sharp tongued reminder that Hannah probably would have died either way. That Todd could have swung the other way and gone Pure Evil and used the power of the Book to most certainly destroy the school and the town, if not a good portion of the world, killing them all.

_'He didn't know, you fucktard, so give him a break. He did the right thing,'_ had been her passing shot. At the time he'd just turned the volume of his ipod up and tried to drown out the echo of her logic.

But there weren't a lot of people that Curtis loved and being angry at Todd over something that might or might not be his fault was really hard.

Walking way when Todd had just told him a group of assholes had tried to run him over with a car - - and having the battle wounds to prove it - - that was close to impossible.

"Dude, class is starting." Randy was waiting for him just inside the doors of the main entrance.

Curtis could have given less of a damn about class at the moment, or about the faint impatience in his new friend's tone. He nodded vaguely as he clomped down the hall towards the math/science room, thinking about the last time he'd seen the Metal Dudes, when they'd proved that they were more than just human. A lot more. He and Todd hadn't done a lot of talking afterwards, about just what they might be, and that was all on him, because every time he'd seen Todd for a while there after Hannah's death, it had just driven home the fact that she'd been stolen from him. He wished he'd made the effort now, because whatever they were, the Metal Dudes were bad news.

"So what'd you want with him? I thought you guys weren't friends anymore," Randy asked casually.

"I didn't say that," Curtis corrected, and he hadn't. Yeah, he'd bitched a little about Todd when Randy had been sharing his weed and Curtis had been feeling talky, but he hadn't said that. "We're just not hanging out."

Randy shrugged. He was a cool guy and all, and he'd taken an interest in Curtis, which was pretty awesome, because Randy was likely the smoothest guy he'd ever met. And he had an awesome car and chicks loved him, and guys - - even bad ass guys - - fell all over themselves to kiss up to him. And maybe Todd hadn't been that far off the mark wondering why he was hanging with Curtis, because Curtis generally didn't attract uber cool, bad ass, Camaro driving friends, but beggars couldn't be choosers and maybe Curtis' cool factor had gone up after the last year of kicking monster ass.

But, Randy could be a little mean and a little bit of a bully and that sat a little wrong with Curtis, who'd been the butt of one too many bullies attentions. And maybe he _had _dissed Todd a little to Randy, but he hadn't particularly liked it when Randy had been bad mouthing him in the parking lot yesterday. He wasn't even quite sure what had happened, Randy and Todd going on the attack like that.

"You're late, boys," Ms. Dempsey complained, a cup of convenience store coffee and a bagel on the desk, looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. "If I have to be here on time, you have to be here on time.

"Sorry," Curtis muttered, slipping into desk seat. Ms. Dempsey had only a marginally better head for math than most of the kids retaking the course did, so everything she was using was standardized and she was lenient with the grades. In fact, he suspected she wasn't even really checking all the answers through and through, which was fine with him, because he still had trouble remembering some of his multiplication tables, much less algebra.

Todd was in the same boat. They'd spent most of freshman and sophomore year skipping math and getting high, and last year had been devoted to a lot of monster killing - - and getting high - - which hadn't left a lot of time for studying, even if they'd been so inclined. The only reason Todd wasn't here in summer school with him was that after becoming the Pure Evil One at the Semi-formal, his teachers had been afraid to give him failing grades. Fear was a really good motivator to grading on a imaginary curve.

Hannah had been brilliant though. She didn't even have to write complicated math problems down, she could figure them out in her head, like an adorable walkie talkie computer. His walkie talkie computer. He sighed, staring out the window. It hurt a little less, remembering her now. He could smile thinking about her, instead of wanting to go someplace dark and private and cry. He hadn't even wanted to get high for the first few weeks after her death, and that was saying a lot.

He still missed her a lot, but life was getting better again.

There weren't a lot of churches in the town of Crowley Heights. Most towns with a population of some twenty-five thousand residents might boast several hundred places of worship. Crowley Heights had six and two of those had been abandoned, their pastors leaving for greener pastures and places where the pickings weren't quite so slim for a flock of devoted followers. A town plagued by the often mysterious and unexplainable evil generated by the occasional appearance of the Book of Pure evil over the decades had the tendency to scare off the devoutly spiritual. Generations of Satanists influencing the subtle underpinnings of the town hadn't helped encourage the foundation for the following of more sanctimonious deities.

Still efforts had been made over the years, ground consecrated, buildings constructed before giving up their ghosts. And though the town of Crowley Heights didn't boast a great many churches, it did have its fair share of cemeteries, filled with victims of the aforementioned Book.

One such abandoned church, sat at the edge of such a cemetery, the steeple with its peeling paint and the occasional missing board, casting a shadow over the graveyard in late afternoon. The bell was missing, as were no few of the pews and the woodwork that had once graced its interior. Graffiti defaced the walls, both inside and out, but still there was a quiet serenity about the place. A calm in the midst of a town full of storms.

The girl found sanctuary there when the whole of the world was one huge cauldron of confusion for her. She was newborn, birthed in manufactured embryonic fluids and of nutrients fed directly into her veins, although she had no understanding of these things. All she knew was that the world opened up to her one day and she stepped into it, a blank slate, naked as any newborn, into the cold, sterile atmosphere of a laboratory.

She'd fled that place and the creeping, paper skinned people that lived above it, clad only in the thin, print robe one of the bent, withered old women had thrust at her when she'd appeared from the depths of the place. The old men had gaped, offering nothing but open mouthed, toothless stares.

Almost as if it called to her, she'd been drawn to the little picket fence bordered cemetery. The grass had been wet and cool, and tickled bare feet. A sensation to be cherished, as all sensations were. She'd run her hands across the tops of stones, the markings blurry scribbles that she couldn't quite understand. Then she came to the one that made her skin prickle and her heart beat a little faster in her chest. The ground before it had been freshly turned. There was a lone white rose, the petals beginning to curl and wither around the edges. Next to it lay a pair of round lensed glasses. She crouched, the tiniest flashes of understanding coming to her. Like the words the old people had spoken to her, that had been nothing more than gibberish at the start, but that she'd gradually begun to comprehend.

The glasses were like that. It took a moment, but as she reached out and touched them, instinctually she realized what she needed to do with them. The lenses were a little dirty, but when she carefully slipped them on, the world became clear. At least the world close up. She could see the words on the stone now, but they still meant nothing to her and she was tired. Something boomed in the distance, a great rumbling in the sky, followed shortly thereafter with fat droplets of rain.

She'd shivered, the thin cloth of the robe soaking through almost immediately, then ran for the only shelter available. The church.

It should have been a daunting place, dark and abandoned, with one door hanging ajar and a good number of the stained glass window panes shattered by the careless hands of teenagers or satanists, throwing rocks. Instead it welcomed her, the one big stained glass window that was intact casting a soft bluish light down the center aisle. Her shoulder throbbed a little, a curious little itch, as if that single part of her cringed at stepping into this place, this quiet, peaceful ground. Absently she scratched it and soon enough it faded away.

She curled up in the little alcove at the rear of the building, below the stained glass window and slept. And for the first time in her short life, she dreamed dreams. Not particularly imaginative dreams, granted, for her experiences were vastly limited, but dreams all the same. She dreamed of endless floating slumber, and of the giant metal tube she'd awoken in. Not a real girl at all, but a thing, and she experienced another first. Shame.

But the church didn't care. The birds that roosted in the rafters didn't mind, nor the family of mice that stared warily at her with their small dark eyes, as they scurried to and from their hole in the wall. So she stayed, entrenched in her haven, content in her solitude. There was an apple tree behind the church and a long untended, riotous patch of berries gone wild that filled the emptiness of her belly. There were books, moldy forgotten books in the little room off the side of the church, that she looked at over and over, not comprehending the meaning, but fascinated by the idea that something vital must have been contained within. She was ever hungry for knowledge, for the whys and the wherefores of even simple things.

She wasn't exactly content, for there were so many things she didn't know - - that she didn't understand about her very existence, but was afraid to venture into the world and find out - - afraid that the rare people that came to the cemetery loitering about the stone markers would see her as she was - - not a real girl at all.

She hid from those people, cowering in the depths of the church like one of the mice and none of the people ever ventured close enough to disturb her.

No one, until the young woman came. She showed up one day, standing on the little road just beyond the little patch of yard out front and yelled with surprising veracity for such a petite thing, startling the girl out of a late afternoon doze.

"Come out, come out. I know you're in there, little girl."

The girl crept to the dirty window, peering through a corner where the glass had been shattered. The girl outside was dressed all in black. Black pants, black shirt, long ringlets of black hair that framed a face as alabaster as the one remaining statue inside the shell of the church. She had eyes as dark as pitch though - - cold eyes that made the girl shrink back and press her back to the wall beside the window, hoping the girl outside would go away eventually.

The girl outside yelled and little more at her, but after a while, stopped. There was silence then, nothing more threatening than the whisper of the wind through the tall grass outside, the chirp of crickets as the evening shadows grew.

Then, the yelp of a dog and the whimpers of something hurt thereafter. The girl pressed her eye back to the opening, and saw a big, grey dog lying in the little road beyond the fence. It tired to drag itself a little ways, but collapsed, tail thumping, making desperate little whiney sounds.

Human beings terrified her, but animals - - animals she felt empathy for. Still she was wary, moving to peer through another pane to see if the girl was still out there. There was no sign of her. Just the dog, panting and whining in the road. She wrung her hands, afraid to venture out of her sanctuary.

With a deep breath, she made a decision and crept down the aisle to the front doors. The dog looked at her, big silvery eyes, silver tipped grey fur, paws as wide as her hands. A very large dog, that had stopped its whimpering and lay, watching her hesitate at the gate, afraid to take that step beyond the church yard and into the street which led to places that frightened her.

But she did, a sudden burst of bravery, and knelt by the dog, hesitantly putting her hands on fur that looked soft, but felt bristly and rough under her fingers.

"Are you - - all right, dog?" She'd never had the occasion to speak, the mice and the birds not sparkling conversationalists and her voice came out raspy from disuse. The words came slowly, things she'd never uttered, coalescing in her head as she thought them. Curious.

The dog's black gums pulled back in what might have been a growl or a canine grin. Its teeth were very, very long, and very white. Then the snout blurred, the teeth melting, the fur evaporating, the very bones shifting so quickly that between one breath and the next it wasn't a dog lying there, it was a girl - - the girl in black - - who caught her wrist while she was gaping at the amazing transformation and held it in an iron grip.

"Stupid thing. Did you think you could hide in there forever?"

The girl stared, trying to pull away, but the black haired girl's grip was strong.

"Let - - let me go."

The black haired girl smirked at her, rising to a crouch. "Can't do that. You have something I need."

The girl blinked behind her glasses, not understanding. "What?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, you're just a doll - - an empty shell somebody made in a jar. But you have something precious in you. Something we can't get anywhere else - -"

There was a sudden, sharp pain in her hand, and she cried out, looking down at the small blade the black haired girl's hand and at the deep, seeping slice in her own palm. She whimpered, pulling ineffectually, as the other girl held a small glass vial beneath the dripping blood, filling it to the brim, before she let the girl's hand drop, interest lost now that she had what she wanted. She stoppered the vial and smiled. It was a cold smile that held nothing but malice.

"See? You have a purpose after all." She rose, slipping the vial into her pants pocket and walked away, leaving the girl in the road, clasping her bleeding hand.


	4. Chapter 3

3

Jenny wasn't answering his calls, which was depressing and worrisome, because who knew what she was doing in the city and who might be hitting on her. Jenny had an unfathomable tendency to ignore or outright rebuff him when he hit on her, while she'd get flirty and doe eyed when some other douche tried to pick her up. He didn't know if it was a failing on his part or hers, but he knew - - just felt it in his soul - - that if they ever actually got together there'd be sparks to light the whole town on fire. If she ever let him close enough to ignite them.

So he'd moped around the mall, where the likelihood of getting ambushed by a bunch of psychotic assholes in a crowd was slim, bought a slice of pizza and a soda, then sat in the parking lot and smoked one of his two remaining joints and thought about the implications of the Metal Dudes with a vendetta. He knew virtually squat about them, other than that they'd had a vested interest in the arrival of the Pure Evil One, that they'd apparently been around for at least a hundred years or more and that somehow or another the three of them and his ex-girlfriend, Nikki Kane, were one and the same.

That was pretty much enough to make him have nightmares by itself. All three together, and well - - he really didn't want to be on their hit list.

The pot helped sooth the raw edges away. A euphoric little rush of the high hit behind his eyes and he blew the smoke out, leaning his head back against the metal pole of the parking lot floodlight.

He wallowed in the bliss for a while, experiencing a hazy disconnect with his body and the ground and the hard column behind him. If he still had the Book, those asshats would think twice before messing with him. If he still had the Book, maybe a lot of things might happen that he didn't necessarily want to happen. Mastering it hadn't been easy. Forcing it to go against its nature and not unleash a wash of destruction had been like pulling his own teeth. It had wanted to rain down hellfire - - it had wanted death and destruction and a thousand - - a million - - screaming souls sucked down to oblivion. He'd known its nature - - its mind - - better than he'd known his own for those few moments when its power had pulsed through him. And it was malicious and it was terrible.

He blew out a breath, pulse throbbing despite the soothing effects of the weed.

The first time, the book had used him the same way it used pretty much anybody who ever had the misfortune to encounter it. The second time he'd held it, it had felt different. The power of the book had been hot and insistent, rushing into him like scalding water, filling him up and drowning any sense of self in darkness, before Curtis had knocked it out of his grasp.

That had been the book trying to take him over, to use him to fulfill its instinctive need for chaos. At least that's what Hannah had theorized afterwards, while they'd all been sitting in the science lab, recovering from the day's ordeal. She'd thought it needed a human conduit to channel its power. That's why it was always seeking out the desperate and the emotionally compromised, granting their wishes in the most ass backwards and generally fatal way possible.

Only all those people were just victims, tools for the thing to jerk off to, spurting little globs of chaos in its wake. For it to really cut loose, it needed a master of its choosing. The Pure Evil. And it had been waiting for a long time. At least that's what the prophecy said - - what little of the prophecy they'd managed to figure out.

Todd still had no idea why he'd gotten the starring role in said prophecy. Sure, he liked to get stoned and listen to Metal and wank off to pretty much anything, but he was relatively sure he'd never been evil, much less the world-destroying sort of evil the Book seemed geared to respond to.

And when he'd sent the Book away the power that had filled him hadn't been _his_ power, but the Book's. Only that time, he hadn't let it consume him, he'd consumed it, and turned it in upon itself. Exerting his will over it. Sending it away to a place maybe not even in this world.

He took the last drag off the butt of the joint, trying to chase away all the dark thoughts. That's what he got, getting stoned all by himself when he was feeling depressed. His highs were never quite as high when he didn't have Curtis to share them with.

It was after all that deep thought that he got home, well after dark, padding into the house and hoping his mom didn't call him on it. She generally let a lot of shit slide, being distracted by things other than him, especially now that she was the sole breadwinner. She only ever occasionally remarked on all the blood she'd had to wash out of his clothes last year and there had been a lot of blood.

"You missed dinner," she called from the couch in front of the TV when he passed. His step dad slouched next to her, Budweiser in hand.

"You get paid?" the old man asked, barely tearing his eyes away from whatever reality show they were glued to.

"What? You out of beer?" His mom had remarried for the third time a few years ago and Todd and his present step dad never had particularly gotten along.

His mom gave him a look, and he narrowed his eyes, pulled out one of the twenties from today and purposefully bypassed his step dad and handed it to her.

"Be respectful, Charlie's trying." She stuffed the bill into her shirt pocket and patted his step dad's leg reassuringly.

Todd rolled his eyes, and headed for the kitchen and a soda, his mom calling after him that there was cold spaghetti in the fridge, if he wanted any. He bypassed that, grabbed a Pepsi and retreated to his room, with its dog eared metal posters thumb tacked to the walls, its pile of dirty clothes at the foot of the bed, his Cd's scattered on the desk by the second hand stereo and the out of date PC. There was a broken sword on the wall supported by nails over his bed. Her name was Sand Dragon and he'd made her himself. Atticus had shattered her at the Semi-formal before Todd had had the book consume him. With the shit likely to hit the fan, he wished she was in one piece. If he'd had her at the drainage ditch yesterday maybe he wouldn't have run like a little girl from those three assholes.

With Blackguard blaring in his earbuds he switched on his Xbox and geared up the most mind numbing first person shooter he had. He drifted to sleep with the ipod on infinite loop and the game controller still in hand.

And woke to silence, the ipod's battery having run down and a big YOU'RE DEAD. GAME OVER frozen on the TV screen. He flipped the screen off, then pulled the one earbud still in his ear out, tossed the controller that was still on his chest to the side and stretched, luxuriating in the fact that he had nowhere to be and nothing to do today.

He slipped a hand under covers finding the morning wood straining at his briefs and settled into one of his many and varied Jenny fantasies while he leisurely jerked off. He put her in little black lace panties this time and a matching bra - - the push up sort that made her creamy boobs swell up over the edges. He imagined her gyrating over him, long white thighs just out of reach. He could remember the smell of her hair like she was in the room - -

"Ah - - God," he tightened his grip, all the leisure gone, wanking hard and fast, balls swollen and tight and ready to burst. Jenny wasn't even there then, just desperation and need and he came all hot and sticky over his hand. Kept coming and pulling on the head of his dick until the pressure resided, then lay there for a moment, catching his breath, sinking into his pillow in heady satisfaction until the warm wet on his hand became cool, uncomfortable wet and he grimaced and reached for the tissue box.

He messed around at home for a while, nothing better to do, but finally anime porn and video games weren't enough and he bit the bullet and decided to man up.

If the Metal Dudes wanted to kick his ass, facing them down would be better than looking over his shoulder the rest of summer, waiting for it to happen. And maybe if he did face them head on and he could get a few answers out of them in the bargain. It would almost be worth getting his ass handed to him if he managed to get them to spill a few of the details that had been plaguing him since the damned Book had showed up in the first place.

The only place he'd ever seen them with clockwork regularity was the high school parking lot and if they were back in town, maybe that's where they might show up again. So on a perfectly good summer day, when he didn't have any pressing reason to be there, either work or school related, he ended up willingly back on the premises.

He rode his bike around the parking lot, looking for their beat up old Chevy, but it wasn't in the lot. Randy Fucking Savage's black Camaro was, and he scowled at it, lamenting the unfairness of life. If he'd had a smooth ride like that, Jenny probably would have been all over him from the get go. He fantasized about that for a moment, imaging hot backseat sex.

The bike seat began to get a little uncomfortable with all the hot and heavy fantasizing going on in his head, and having a boner right in the middle of the school parking lot would be a little embarrassing if anybody happened by, so he shut down the mental imagery and walked the bike up the sidewalk towards the school while things settled back down to normal. He leaned the bike against the rail at the bottom of the steps and looked up.

The big front doors were propped open, letting in the summer breezes and letting out the distinct smell of school. The scent of buffed floors and disinfectant. Smells that reminded him of Jimmy. It had been over a month since Jimmy had left for parts unknown, and he'd said he didn't know if he'd ever come back - -but sometimes shit happened and who knew. That was Jimmy's philosophy. After spending pretty much half his life trapped inside the school - - well, a little freedom from it was a good thing. It still didn't mean he didn't have a place to come back to, if he wanted. A job that he knew inside and out. People that cared about him.

He got drawn inside despite himself. Maybe just wanting to make sure Jimmy wasn't there after all, because right about now Todd was in need of a friend that wasn't either actively avoiding his calls or pissed at him.

The squeak of his Converse on the tile floors echoed strangely with the school practically empty, only a fraction of its classrooms in use for the summer session. There was still the old banner from last year hanging over the main doors, congratulating the graduating senior class. Still some of the old artwork on display that kids hadn't elected to take home. Most of the abandoned pieces were pretty crappy.

He perked up at the muffled hum of a floor buffer down the hall in the direction of the gym. But it was just an old black guy humming some bluesy tune along with the whirr of the machine. A replacement janitor.

It was seriously depressing.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled down the empty hall in the other direction. There'd been a lot of blood in these halls. Todd had spilled a lot of it himself in the course of fighting Book generated chaos. Jimmy had been really good at cleaning it up so no one who hadn't been there might have guessed.

He walked past the science lab, which had pretty much been their headquarters last year during free periods and after school. It had a class in progress now, a teacher he didn't know busily writing on the chalk board while the students he glimpsed in passing dozed, or stared in glassy-eyed misery out the window at the fine summer day outside.

Which was where he should have been instead of wasting his time looking for trouble that might not even be here. The Metal Dudes would show up, when they showed up. Hell, they were obnoxious enough that they might not show up at all, if he actually wanted them to.

So he was wasting his time, loitering around here. He blew out a breath and headed for the boys room to take a leak. He considered maybe hanging around outside and waiting for Curtis to get out and see if maybe after the ice had been broken yesterday, he might be willing to relent a little and talk. But that would make him seem the neediest of needy and he wasn't that desperate. He leaned a hand on the ceramic tile over the urinal and called himself a few derogatory names under his breath.

"You're not what I expected."

He started at the comment, at the smug face of Randy Savage standing right fucking next to him. He lost his concentration and his aim for a second, stream of piss hitting the tile wall next to the urinal.

"What the fuck, dude?"

Randy's eyes flitted to the trickle of pee dribbling down the wall, then back to Todd in leisurely appraisal. Todd flushed a little, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment and shifted his body to block the view while he tucked himself away and zipped up. He cast an indignant glare at the other guy once his dick was safely back in his pants. "What's your problem, asshole?"

The guy was a lot taller close up than he'd seemed the last two times Todd had seen him. The tats a lot more elaborate when they were right in his face. A lot of runic looking designs on his arms, and what looked like a big inverted, Byzantine on his chest jutting up from under his tank top.

He felt another little stab of jealousy over the skin art. There had been a conversation with his mom during one of her rare moments of motherly dictatorship, that had ended with a flat out no at the suggestion of a wicked tattoo and a declaration that when he was out from under her roof, he could permanently ink, pierce or otherwise mar his skin to his heart's content, but not until.

"No problem, man." Randy didn't move, still leaning there with a shoulder against the ceramic wall, staring at Todd with this unswerving intensity that despite not wanting to seem like a wuss, made Todd take a wary step backwards, putting a little comfortable distance between them.

"Well then get out of my face, dude."

Randy leaned forward. "When I 'm in your face, you'll know it."

Todd knew a threat when he heard one and despite all his slaying of Book generated horrors and occasional rushes of overwhelming, dark power, he'd never been a kid who willingly engaged in fights - - grudgingly maybe, when his back was to the wall - - but honestly, he'd really rather be getting high or smirking from the sidelines as some other pair of ass holes pounded each other bloody.

If the guy had been a little shorter, or a little less menacing, he'd have scoffed with as much disdain as he could muster when he was feeling just a little bit of embarrassing intimidation, and sauntered past like Randy Savage was less than nothing to him. But instinct that had become pretty good lately, warned not to turn his back on the guy, so he sort of edged towards the door, keeping him in his line of sight.

"Whatever, dude. I don't see why the hell Curtis hangs out with you when you're such a douche?"

Randy did scoff and he did a better job of lacing it with scorn than Todd probably could have. "Because he's a pitiful, desperate little one armed cripp - - "

Todd didn't let him finish the insult. He didn't get into fights willingly on his own behalf, but he'd taken on more than one bully targeting Curtis before. He hit Randy straight in the mouth, only peripherally aware of the pain when the guy's teeth sliced into his knuckles.

Randy staggered back a step, gratifying shock on his face, blood forming at his mouth. Then he was growling, charging forward. He hit Todd full body, slamming him back against the bathroom door, which sprung open, spilling them both into the hall. He hit the shiny floor with Randy on top of him, managed to get an arm up to deflect the blow aimed for his nose and got the tail end of glancing off his cheek. It still hurt like a bitch.

He bucked, trying to throw the guy off, trying to block the blows that were being rained down, at too much of a disadvantage, position wise, to get in any decent return hits.

Then somebody was yanking Randy backwards and yelling at them to break it up. The old janitor angling between them, pushing Randy back when he made to surge back. Todd scrambled to his feet, glaring through his hair, tasting a little blood from a hit that had connected.

"You little prick," Randy stabbed a finger at him over the janitor's arm. "I'm gonna fuck you up."

"Yeah? Get in line, asshole."

There were heads peeking out of doorways down the hall at the commotion and the last thing he needed was a trip to the principle's office when he wasn't even attending school. So he ducked his head and with one departing glower made a hasty retreat. Randy didn't follow. Which was a good thing, because now that adrenalin was starting to drain away, the elbow he'd banged up the other day tumbling down the ditch because of three _other_ assholes was throbbing now, having taken the brunt of the impact with the floor. He clutched it with his good arm while he was stalking towards his bike. He jerked it up and sat for a moment, glaring at the Camaro, before riding over and kicking the passenger side door panel hard enough to make a decent dent.

That act of gratuitous vandalism made him feel better. So he kicked it again before high tailing it out of the parking lot. He ended up not going far. Just around to the football field behind the main building, where he left his bike under the deserted bleachers and found a favorite spot in the shade to pull out his last joint and light up. He sat in the grass against one of the bleacher supports and even the pot couldn't stop whirling, angry thoughts of Randy Fucking Savage.

What a total tool. Why was he even hanging around Curtis if that's what he thought, anyway? And as Todd's thought processes were prone to doing, they finally worked their way back around, long after the fact, to Randy's opening remark in the john. What had he meant by 'you're not what I expected'?

Before he knew it, he'd smoked all but the tiniest nub of the joint and it hadn't even made him feel all that much better. He had practically no money left and no more weed for the weekend. He took that one last precious drag, holding the nub between pinky and thumb and savored the billowy high, knowing it might be the last chance he had for the next few days, unless someone miraculously decided to share a bit of their stash. Which seemed unlikely considering he'd alienated most of the stoners in town that he knew of that might be willing to part with free weed.

It was going to be a long weekend.

Supper was his mom's meatloaf drowned with ketchup in front of the TV. His step dad sat there chowing down, beer in one hand, fork in the other. His mom actually took note of the bruise on his arm and asked about it.

He explained it away by lying and saying he'd landed badly jumping a ramp with his bike. She bought it, sort of reflexively warned him to be more careful and turned her attention back to the TV.

He flopped on the bed and played video games until his cell phone chirped at him. Todd perked up at the sight of Curtis' icon.

_Do you wanna talk? _

He shut his eyes, relief washing over him. Maybe Curtis had heard about the fight with Randy. And no matter how pissed Curtis was at him, he wouldn't take somebody else's side in a fight. So maybe he was ready to forgive him.

_Sure. _He typed in, trying for casual, as if the invite weren't the best thing that had happened all summer.

After a moment, a response popped up.

_Meet me at school. Parking lot?_

_Okay. Half hour._

He slipped out the bedroom window to avoid having to explain to his mom why he was heading out so late, got his bike from the garage and pedaled the few miles to the high school. The building was one big dark silhouette. The parking lot not much better, only two out of six or eight parking lot lights actually working. It was pretty obviously empty though. He circled it once, looking for Curtis' bike, then stopped at the sidewalk leading up to the school's front entrance, letting his bike drop on grass he'd personally cut. He sat down on the curb, figuring maybe Curtis was just making slower time than him. He had hauled ass to get here.

There was a rustling in the bushes fronting the line of reserved, teacher's parking spots. He eyed it narrowly, all too aware of that there were most certainly things that went bump in the night and wanted to skin and eat you to boot. A lot of those things tended to pop up around Crowley High.

"Curtis? That you?" He rose, approaching the dark foliage warily. It rustled again, whoever it was not making a lot of effort to keep quiet. Probably just a dog. Yeah, if it wasn't Curtis a dog would be preferable to something that wanted to eat him.

"Curtis?"

"Guess again, man." Randy Savage stepped out of the bushes.

"Shit." He backed up a step, raising his fists defensively, managed to get a 'What the - -?' out before he heard or sensed or whatever the movement from then parking lot behind him and half turned to see the dark shapes of two other guys rushing at him. Which was around the time Randy's fist glanced off the side of his face and the night momentarily lit up with bright lights. He staggered into the arms of the incoming two guys - - who were just shadowed faces topping dark clad bodies. They caught his arms, twisting them behind him while he was trying to clear his head. There was the wet, coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

"Mother fucker - -" he spat it out at Randy's feet, jerking against the hold his two friends had on his arms. They just tightened their grips, one of them twisting his arm up at an angle that made his shoulder scream bloody murder.

Randy sauntered up, bent down a little to look him in the eye and sneered. "I told you I 'd fuck you up."

"Seriously - -? Are you off your fucking meds or something - -?" Todd got out before Randy buried a fist in his gut, knocking the words and the air right out of him. The two guys on his arms were the only thing keeping him from crumpling to his knees at that point.

There was a screech of tires that he heard through the huge rush in his ears. Randy strode past, and they hauled him around, half dragging him towards a big black car. Some older model four door sedan with another guy sitting behind the steering wheel staring at them. It was about that point that the thought that this was some chicken shit payback for the incident that morning became a little less conceivable and Todd began to get a lot more scared. Nobody went to this much trouble to retaliate for a bathroom scuffle. Unless Randy was a psychopath or a mobster or something.

He started to fight the grip on his arms in earnest, planting his heels, kicking off against the side of the car when he was close enough, which threw them all half off their balance, but didn't make them loosen their hold on him. Randy planted an elbow in his back, between his shoulder blades and slammed him down onto the trunk of the car. Something cold and hard encircled his wrist, then they dragged the other wrist over and fastened the other half of a set of handcuffs around it. Fuck. Just - - fuck.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're a badass," he wasn't too proud to grovel a little when the odds were so blatantly against him. "You fucked me up big time - so let's call it even, okay?"

Randy grinned at him as they yanked him up, dragging him towards the back of the car. The driver popped the trunk and Randy opened it. The interior of the trunk was big and dark and Todd stared at it with dawning understanding.

"The hell - - fucking no!" He got a sneaker against the bumper, trying to shove backwards, but Randy caught his legs and between them they lifted him up and stuffed him into the musty trunk. The only bright spot was Randy got a knee jammed up under his jaw in the process, which he hissed at and cursed, but got in the last laugh anyway when he slammed the trunk down with a resounding bang and plunged Todd into pitch, faintly oil, faintly blood scented darkness. He kicked at the trunk ineffectually, until the car lurched forward, spinning tires and screeching around a turn with enough force to send Todd sliding head first into the wheel well. He saw stars again and lay there, panting, twisting his cuffed wrists so he wasn't lying on them.

Trying to wrap his mind around what was happening was proving difficult. Sure, he was pretty immune to the idea of monsters of all shapes and sizes and the resulting blood and gore - - but plain old human violence - - the sort of shit you saw in various gangster moves where people got kidnapped and locked into car trunks to be taken out to the woods and shot in the head then buried in shallow graves - - that sort of stuff was beyond his range of experience. And now that he'd started thinking about the shallow grave thing and wondering if Randy Savage was completely off his rocker or on some really fucked up drug - - he couldn't get it out of his head. Or maybe this was just some really bad prank - - Todd had been known to fuck with the occasional deserving asshole himself - - that had gotten taken really off the edge of far. The license plate of Randy's Camaro had tags that read - - Todd tried to remember - - New York? New Jersey? And maybe they really got elaborate in their punking on the east coast. That would be the best of a really shitty set of bad scenarios he had going in his imagination.

The car was rolling along at a good clip now, and they were playing what sounded sort of like Danzig, but all he was really getting was the reverberating pounding of big bass speakers nested up against the back of the trunk. After maybe twenty minutes, the smooth ride turned bumpy, like they'd turned off the road and onto a dirt track. He bounced around in the trunk, trying to brace himself as best he could. When the car finally stopped, he felt like a beetle some malicious kid had put in a jar and shaken vigorously.

It was pitch when they popped the trunk, the little trunk light the only source of illumination as two of them reached in and latched hold of him. It was a toss up whether to resist the process or go with and get out of the cramped trunk. He went with the latter, figuring that if he got his feet on the ground he could make a break for it.

They were in the woods. A lot of dark tree shapes that got thicker and darker in the distance. There was a chain attached to two trees blocking the narrow dirt road just ahead of the car, with a sign with a faded no trespassing on it.

He knew that sign and this little back service road. He and Curtis had used to ride their bikes out here when they'd been younger, and play commando in the woods and the ruins of what had used to be a big old nursery that had burned down back in the fifties. All that was left now was the gaping maw of the basement and thousands of daffodils that came back every spring, scattering the surrounding woods. There was a creek a little further past the ruin that was thick with bamboo on its banks. They'd called it Bamboo City. They hadn't been there in a couple of years. Even so, he knew the lay of the woods like the back of his hand.

They jerked him along, Randy gripping one arm, one of the other three guys on the other. They tromped along, the other two shuffling ahead, one of them with a little flashlight in hand.

"How'd you get Curtis' phone?"

Randy cast him a look, the whites of his eyes and his teeth faint glimmers in the darkness. "How'dya know he didn't text you himself?"

"Because he didn't, dickbag." Of that Todd's faith was unshakable. Curtis wouldn't do that to him.

Randy shrugged, considering, then said slyly. "I didn't need him anymore, so I slit his fat throat and I took it."

Todd shut his eyes. Something black and terrible gurgled inside him. The flashlight the guy ahead of the was holding chose that moment to sputter out, and Todd jerked his arm out of the grip of the guy on his left and jammed a knee between Randy's legs. Randy gasped, doubling over and he slammed his head up under the bastard's jaw on the way down. He didn't even feel the impact, the black rage had surged so fast and so huge. He rushed Randy, shoulder slamming him into a tree, bringing his knee up again into his crotch - - curses coming from his mouth that he didn't even really realize he was uttering.

One of the other's made a grab at him, fingers catching at his shirt, but he ducked under and ran, pelting into the darkness, breaking through brush and bramble in his flight. He glanced off a tree and rebounded, crouched for a moment, listening for the sound of pursuit. He heard them crashing through the wood, not as close on his heels as he'd thought.

Randy was a lying sack of shit, that's what he was. He'd just said that about Curtis to fuck with Todd's head. He had to have.

He got up, and it took a little more effort than he expected. He'd taken a lot of abuse the last couple of days and he was beginning to _feel_ it. These woods backed up against the Crowley Heights bottling plant - - the same plant his step dad had gotten laid off from - - and beyond that was a road where there would be people in cars that might stop for a handcuffed kid staggering out into the road. He hoped. This was Crowley Heights, after all and people tended to look the other way at a lot of messed up shit.

A flicker of light through the darkness caught his attention. Not a flashlight beam, but more like a fire. Somebody out camping, maybe? He veered that way, came to a clearing and stopped in the cover of surrounding trees and foliage. There was a light all right, coming from about a hundred candles placed all over the place, and about a dozen guys, a lot of them bare-chested and tattoo covered, some of them sporting black robes, all of them skirting the edge of a damned big pentagram that looked as if it had been spray painted on the cleared earth.

Shit. Satanists. Fucking Satanists. Why that scenario hadn't popped into his head with the others when he was busy freaking himself out in the trunk of the car was a mystery, because - - duh - - Crowley Heights was crawling with the bastards. Only most of the devil worshipping dicks in town were from another generation entirely and these guys looked more like extras out of a death metal video and what the hell was going on?

He backed away as quietly as he could, getting a little distance between him and the clearing before he started to run like hell again. When his back pocket started vibrating it suddenly occurred to him that he had a phone and that maybe calling somebody and asking for help might be a good game plan.

He leaned against a tree and managed to get the cell out, and just twist enough to see that it was a text from his phone carrier reminding him that this month's bill was overdue.

He got his contacts list up and jabbed at a number, any number, only hoping it wasn't his mom he got.

The last thing he needed, if and when he got out of this, was to explain to her why he'd been kidnapped by Satanists. She was already freaked out enough that he'd asked if she was one. She was going to start suspecting he had an unhealthy fixation.

It wasn't home he got, but Jenny's voice mail, telling all and sundry that they could leave a message if they wanted, and that she _might_ get back to them if she was in the mood. _That includes you, Todd._ Which he rolled his eyes in exasperation at every time he heard and he'd been hearing it a lot this summer in his efforts to connect with her.

"Jenny, please, please check your messages," he pleaded at the phone in as loud a whisper as he dared. "Satanists are up to some sort of sick shit and I'm in trouble - - out in the woods behind the bottling plant - - near the ruins and Bamboo City - - and you need to check and see if Curtis is - - shit - -"

He caught the tail end of the movement as fist came at him from out of the darkness. He lost the phone as somebody bowled him over. He went down into pine tags and leaves with somebody's knee in his gut and no way to block the fist that slammed down into his mouth.

"You little prick - - I'll fucking kill you - -" Randy was screaming down at him, bloody of face himself from his intimate meeting with Todd's skull.

"Get off, you asshole." Todd snarled past the blood filling his mouth, trying to buck the older guy off. Randy punched him in the side and pain flared out from his kidney. It was all he could do to try and breath as Randy fished the cell out of the leaves and pushed himself up. He dropped it to the ground next to Todd's face and slammed the heel of his boot down on it, splintering glass and plastic.

"You giant douche - -"

Randy kicked him again and Todd bit off the insult, rolling onto his side, drawing his knees up from the pain. Randy bent, smiling down, the snick of a switchblade drawing Todd's eyes like a magnet.

"No," One of the other guys had come up, and put a hand on Randy's shoulder. "The boss said, one piece. Don't piss him off."

Randy's mouth tightened, but he snapped the blade closed and rose, snapping. "Just bring him. And don't lose him this time."

At least Randy was limping, walking just a little hunched over like a guy that had had a knee driven up twice into his nuts. Todd hoped he'd driven them right back up into the fucker's body.

They jerked him back to the clearing and everybody stopped and stared. It looked more like the parking lot out behind a Death Metal show that what Todd had become to associate conventional Satanists with. All of these guys were youngish, all of them pierced and tattooed, a few of them wearing ear buds trailing down to ipods tucked in their jeans. The Satanists of Crowley Heights wouldn't know an ipod if it bit them on their asses and that included Atticus. Truth be told he'd much rather have been dragged into a gathering of the towns doddering old devil worshippers than this bunch. Atticus had been about as scary as any sweater vest wearing douche with daddy issues could be - - which was not much at all.

The guy striding up to him now from that black candle lit pentagram was a lot more intimidating. If metal and bodybuilding came up with a conglomerated sub-culture, this dude would be on the cover of the magazine.

The guy was huge, bulging with glistening muscles that it looked like he'd gone to the trouble to oil up for effect. Long dark hair, just a little thinning on the top, and a jaw like a granite block. He had some sort of elaborate occult symbol on his chest. A lot more stretched across his arms. He wasn't as young close up as he'd seemed. Maybe thirty-five or forty. Ancient.

He looked at Todd. Todd looked back warily, a continuous looping _what the fuck what the fuck_ going through his head.

"The Pure Evil One," the guy finally said. He didn't look that impressed. But then maybe the scowl was his normal expression. He sort of reminded Todd a little of Glenn Danzig. He looked like maybe he'd gone to some effort to chase down the look.

"Don't you guys ever give up?" Todd complained. "The Book's gone. I'm retired. Give it a rest, assholes."

The Danzig-wannabe looked down his nose at Todd - - not hard, since he had more than a half head on him - - and sneered. "Betrayer. You spit in the face of the prophesy our brethren have worked towards since our dark lord's Adversary hung dying on his cross."

"Bull shit," Todd spat back. "I'm not your brethren. I didn't betray jack shit because I never wanted it, dickhead. And Danzig's a pretentious asshole. Yeah, I said it."

The Danzig-wannabe widened his eyes a split second before he backhanded Todd right into oblivion. Todd figured this out when he woke up an undetermined time later with the side of his face still throbbing, lying on the ground at the edge of the clearing next to a big pine tree. Somebody had been nice enough to tie a rope around his ankles, nixing any chance at running away again.

The heavy metal Satanists were sort of mulling around, a few of them passing bottles of booze around, or talking in groups like they were waiting for something. Imitation Danzig sat on a rock just outside the spray painted pentagram, looking like he was meditating or something.

Todd carefully eased himself up, brushing his cheek against his shoulder to get rid of the pine tags sticking to his skin. He got his back to the tree with a little effort. He noticed Randy over with a few shirtless assholes, giving him the stink eye. Randy had taken off his own shirt and his chest art was displayed in all its glory. It was an inverted cross, the bottom half it dripping globs of rendered blood. There were a lot of half naked guys hanging out and getting drunk and he really, really hoped this particular cult wasn't into mixing weird kinky sex stuff into their rites. He'd seen the occasional fucked up horror/porn where things really got out of hand. Granted there'd always been a hot chick involved.

There was a rustling in the woods across the clearing that attracted the attention of the metal Satanists. Every head in the clearing turned expectantly as a figure walked out of the darkness in the flickering orange candlelight. A girl. And not the sort of girl you saw once and ever forgot, much less made out with and fucked and had her slip your memory.

Nikki. It was Nikki Kane, padding through the group of staring guys like she was the queen of the world. Which she might have been for the wide-eyed, stares that ranged from lustful appreciation to careful apprehension. Todd had come to appreciate the latter emotion when it came to thoughts of her after finding out her true nature. She walked up to the Danzig-wannabe and dropped a small duffle at his feet.

"It took some doing, but as promised, you've got your ingredients, Drexel."

The Danzig wannabe - - Draxal, rose up, towering over her, but she didn't seem impressed. She looked right past him, in fact, zeroing in on Todd with one arched brow.

"And you brought the guest of honor."

Draxal sneered, glancing towards Todd himself. "Are you sure he's the one? He looks like nothing but a punk kid, to me."

Nikki shrugged. "Oh, I 'm sure. He's harmless though. A limp dick without the Book."

Todd narrowed his eyes, offended at that analogy.

"You've got a ritual to prepare. You should get to it," she suggested, brushing past Draxal and slinking towards Todd like a predator on the prowl.

She blocked out his vision of what they were doing over by the pentagram, standing with her boots on either side of his bound legs, smirking down at him with a faintly bored expression.

"Bet you didn't think we'd party again, huh, lover?" she purred.

He glared up. "I should have known you had something to do with this. You and those other three douches."

She dropped down, sliding forward to sit on his thighs, trailing fingers up his chest to his jaw. He jerked his head back hard enough to smack it up against the tree, all the biting things he might have said drying up from the tactile memory of the last time she'd been perched over him. And even the knowledge that she and the Metal Dudes were somehow one and the same didn't dull the edge of that particular memory.

"You scared, lover?" She bent close, brushing the hair away from his ear, the tip of her clever little tongue flicking inside. "You should be," she whispered. "What they're gonna do - - its going to hurt like a bitch."

He made an embarrassing whimpery sound that he choked back, twisting his head away. She sat back, smiling coldly, twining a lock of his hair around her finger.

"What? What are they gonna do?" he finally choked out.

"You locked the Book away - - I bet you don't even know where, huh?" She slid her fingers up under the hem of his t-shirt and he shivered at the scrape of her nails on his skin. "But that's okay - - because there's no seal that can't be broken. They're going to rip you open like ripe fruit - -" she pressed her lips against the side of his mouth. "- - and mangle those locks of yours."

He shut his eyes, swallowing. "Why? Why do want the end of the world so bad?"

She drew back, canting her head, looking at him as if he were the most curious thing. The frantic bleating of what sounded like some hoofed animal drew his attention, and he leaned a little to look around her at the Metal Satanists leading a reluctant goat into the middle of the inverted pentagram. The lot of them were humming, chanting low and incomprehensible things.

"Oh, Jesus - -" Todd breathed, as the big guy sliced the poor thing straight across the throat with enough force to half sever the head, holding it up by a grip on its snout while the spasming body spurted blood, soaking the ground inside the symbol.

Nikki slapped him lightly, drawing his horrified attention back to her. "This really isn't the place to bring up _that_ name, baby. I think they're almost ready for you."

_Fuck. Fucking fuck_.

She pushed herself up, stepping back and leaning against the tree as two of the guys, who'd donned black robes with big hooded cowls for the ritual came for him. They dragged him up, not bothering to untie his ankles, so struggling was a lost cause. He did anyway. Frantic and scared.

Somebody caught his feet when they reached the circle, so he wouldn't scuff their carefully spray painted lines. They laid him down, hands reaching out while he bucked against the handling, uncuffing one wrist and dragging that arm out to what looked like one of those metal stakes used to chain up big dogs, and fastening the empty cuff around the eyehole. There was already a cuff fastened to a second stake that they forced his arm towards and fastened his wrist to the waiting cuff. Which left him staked out in the middle of the thing, arms stretched out to the two top points of the five point star, his feet secured to a third dog stake at the bottom downward facing point. The ground was wet from the goat blood, and it began soaking through his shirt and jeans.

"You dicks - - you sons of bitches - -" he was hyperventilating a little in his panic. They weren't paying him a lot of heed, all of them holding the nubs of black candles and forming a circle around the outer edge of the pentagram that blocked out everything but their creepily underlit faces and a night sky devoid of stars. Nikki hadn't joined them, not a part of this cult. Just using it for her own ends, like the Metal Dudes had used Atticus' society.

"Whatever she told you - - she's a lying, double crossing bitch." He tried to get that plain fact across, but their chanting was drowning him out, and the big guy, Draxal moved through the circle, the only one without a robe now, his hands and his chest still bloody from the goat blood.

"Hear us, oh Dark Unholy Master," he cried to the sky in what was actually a pretty good imitation of a Danzig roar. "Black winds of death forever cry in pain calling the disciples of the Dark Master and the Impaler to gather under the banner of the black holocaust". It even sort of sounded like it would have made pretty good lyrics to some death metal song. In fact, now that he thought about it, he maybe had heard those selfsame words in a song - - but he was a little distracted at the moment to remember exactly which.

The guy was holding a stone bowl in one bloody hand and a knife in the other, both of which he raised high. He started bellowing something in Latin. Todd thought it was Latin because weren't most archaic/Satanist rituals preformed in that dead language? Of course he knew about as much Latin as he did particle physics - - which was to say none - - so it was only a layman's guess.

There was a little rumble in the sky, a distant throb of thunder to go along with the cloud covered sky and Draxal paused, head back eyes closed as the breeze from the oncoming storm fluttered sweat dampened hair.

"It is time," he decreed and dropped to his knees, right at Todd's head.

He held the stone bowl out for his followers to see. "The ground bone of St. Issac of Aqualine. The sulfuric excretion of a hound of hell. The dried semen of Pope Evaristus - -"

"Gross - -" Todd made a miserable sound and pulled at the stakes, which showed no sign of cooperation.

Finally Draxal produced a small red filled vial that he poured into the mix of noxious sounding stuff in the bowl and mixed together with the knife. "Bound together by the blood of the Book of Pure Evil, the unholy and the holy shall join in riotous fornication and shatter the chains keeping the Dark Book from this realm."

The knife came down, but all it did was slice open Todd's t-shirt right down the middle. It had been a cool shirt. A classic Iron Maiden from the '82 tour that he'd found at a thrift store.

But the indignity of that was swept away when Draxal made his next cut. This one a line across Todd's chest.

He yelped, more surprise and fear of damage he couldn't see, than initial pain.

"You crazy fuck - - Shit - - shit - -" The pain came after all. Burning like acid had been injected under his skin. He hardly even felt the second cut until a few seconds later when whatever was on the blade started eating into his flesh. It felt like it, anyway. The guy leaned over him, and all he could see were the hard planes of his stomach with the bottom half of the tattoo. He could smell the guy's sweat mixed in with the stench of the stuff in the cup, mixed in with blood - - blood seeping into his mouth from a bitten cheek. But the sting of that was nothing compared to the centralized agony at his chest.

He arched off the ground, screaming and other than a few of them moving in to hold him down, they ignored him, chanting all the louder, until the sound of them and the sound of the blood pounding in his head took on the same tempo. Draxal kept cutting.

It went on forever, long enough at least that between the shock of the mutilation and his struggles against it, he exhausted himself to the point that they didn't really need to exert all that much pressure to keep him from twisting in his bonds.

Draxal sat back finally, raising his bloody hands upwards and chanting nonsense words that the others echoed. With an effort, Todd lifted his head enough to see what they'd done to him. Not mindless slashing, but a symbol carved into the center of his chest, ragged edges of flesh inflamed and seeping blood and just - - crap. Really, awful looking and throbbing. It started to burn. Not just burn, but to actually glow, emitting a deep red light interspaced by sparks of bluish white. The pain of the actual infliction of it got put to shame as the thing started searing through him. Veins, flesh bones, every part of him felt like it was being burned to ash from the inside out. He opened his mouth a soundless scream, vocal chords too frozen up to actually make a noise.

Something inside him fractured, spider webbing into a thousand hairline cracks, crystalline and brittle. He felt the force of something throbbing beyond the splintered web - - something that swelled, throbbing with a familiar chaotic energy.

No. No. No. But it was a numb recognition and a numb denial, powerless in his exhaustion.

It railed against him, railed against the prison he'd made by pure instinct for it, and he had nothing in him to hold it back. All his stamina eaten up by the pain, all his will drenched in the blinding fire of the symbol carved into his chest.

With a sudden flare of hellish light, the dam broke. The sky let loose over their heads, flaring with blinding white light as a strike of lightning arced into the edge of the clearing. The thunderclap that followed was this tremendous deafening boom that shook the very earth. And in its wake, something fluttered in the air above the pentagram. Above Todd. Every face looked up in awe and reverence. One or two of them lifted hands, making a go for it, but the Book never had been that cooperative. It flittered upwards as the wind began to whip in earnest and disappeared into the darkened wood.

It took most of the pain with it. All the heat, all the searing agony trying to devour him from the inside out. He looked down and before his eyes, the angry slashes began to fade, gaping edges of torn flesh and all, just absorbed back into his skin. Other than the blood and a dull, throbbing ghost ache where the slices had been, he was whole again.

He made a small, miserable sound and dropped his head back to the goat's blood-soggy ground.

"We did it," somebody said, voice filled with awe.

Draxal sat back on his heels and laughed this deep, booming laugh. Todd really, really hated him.

"What do we do with him?" That was Randy Savage, moving to stand behind Draxal, looking down with a mean set to his mouth.

Draxal looked up, through the ring of dispersing metal Satanists, towards Nikki, who'd slithered up to the edge of the circle.

"Oh, he still has value," she said, not bothering to elaborate. "Let him go. For now."

Draxal waved a hand and a couple of them went to unlock the cuffs.

Randy pulled back his teeth in a snarl. "We gonna let this bitch run the show? I owe this little shit."

Remarking that he thought he'd been paid in full for any pain Todd had caused him - - so get over it asshole - - seemed inappropriate sitting in the middle of a circle of his over excited, blood thirsty cronies. So Todd clamped his teeth on the comment and clutched his aching wrists to his chest as soon as he was free to do so, clambering sort of clumsily to his feet and trying to keep his back to as many of them as he could at a time. They grinned at him, leering at their upper hand. High on their success.

Draxal waved a hand and they shifted, allowing him an opening, a pathway out of this damned satanic circle. He took it without hesitation. Backed away until he reached the edge of the clearing, then turned and bolted into the woods.


	5. Chapter 4

**4**

There was a crack of thunder so violent that it shook the church to its foundations. The girl started, shuddering, clutching her threadbare robe with a hand she'd wrapped with a strip of the same paisley cloth ripped from the hem to staunch the bleeding.

A week ago - - a day ago - - an hour ago - - she would have huddled, terrified at the angry rumblings, hiding in her safe haven afraid of the world. But as the echoes faded it occurred to her that the sound was no terrible prelude to disaster but the simple expansion of super heated, compressed air exploding outwards from the channel of a lightning strike, forming a shock wave and scattering compressed particles in every direction.

For a moment, she wondered over that inspirational knowledge, a furrow of puzzlement between her brows. There were other things behind that awareness of the basic earth sciences, things hovering on the other side of a door that had quite unexpectedly opened inside her. A curious door through which all manner of things began to flood in.

She rose from her corner, padding through the dust and debris blown in from the broken windows and hanging door, and stood on the front stoop of the church staring out into the night. The wind was picking up, a storm gathering in the west, fast moving cumulonimbus clouds blocking out all semblance of stars or moon. Her hair whipped around her shoulders, strands of it snaking across her face. She lifted a broken nailed hand and wiped it away, pausing as she did, staring down at locks that would in the light of day be reddish.

Red haired and freckled and she'd always been a little ashamed of the stigma - -just a little, deep down buried behind the determination to prove herself capable and brilliant.

Just like her - - her parents. And she knew. Like a slap in the face, she knew.

Hannah slumped against the door, sliding down to her knees, knowing herself. All the little pieces and parts of her that had been absent flowing back like her soul was a magnet and the shreds of her mentality - - her very self were a thousand tiny filaments of iron, drawn towards that magnetic field. Like the essence of her had been bottled up, trapped inside opaque glass and someone somewhere had popped the cork, freeing her. Something somewhere had happened. Something tremendous that had changed the very fabric of her world.

She sat in the doorway and cried.

Jenny Kolinsky had commitment issues. She couldn't help it. There had not been a tremendous amount of stability in her home life with a dad who was an investigative reporter that had been on the road doing research on one story or another since she was old enough to remember and a mom that had been more interested in carrying on affairs in his absence than in her daughter. Jenny had learned to fend for herself at a young age. Had learned to despise her mom's indiscretions and worship her father's rare moments of attention. Even if, in retrospect, those moments of affection had been more of a task for him than a pleasure, taking precious time from the real passion of his work, which for the last decade or more of his life had been the pursuit of the elusive Book of Pure Evil.

So it wasn't surprising that Jenny tended to seek out the attentions of the sort of guys who took her for granted, who treated her like an accessory to spike their cool points, who wanted to get into her pants and once there, lost interest. She didn't have the curse of low self-esteem, she was smart and not afraid to voice her opinions - - she just couldn't seem to dig herself out of the pit of seeking out those doomed relationships.

Maybe that's why Todd scared her. Yeah, he was an idiot most of the time, a stoner and a metal head that would be lucky to graduate high school, much less land a fortune 500 job. He was irresponsible, and impulsive and his sense of humor and hers tended to be polar opposites- - and that wasn't even delving into the whole Pure Evil One issues he had going on. He shouldn't have been anything other than a 'friend' blip on her radar - - but he'd snuck up on her.

Somehow, in between all the blood and the horror, and the breath stealing excitement of dealing with the Book, he'd gotten under her skin. Even when she'd rebuffed him time and again, sharpening her claws at his expense - - he'd never given up on her.

And maybe something in her sensed that unshakable loyalty and it scared her. She wouldn't know what to do with loyalty if it bit her on the ass and before junior year she'd never really maintained more than the rare casual friendship. And then she'd had three there for a while. And there were friends and then there were friends who fought battles beside you. Combat forged something a lot stronger than an evening spent painting nails and listening to the trendiest new Goth band.

So, yeah, she'd been avoiding Todd's calls, because she twinged a little in what might just have been the faintest, tiniest trace of longing, when she heard his stupid voice. And even though in the heat of the moment during the semi-formal she'd been on the verge of doing something monumentally stupid - - she'd had time to talk herself out of him.

It had been the dress, she'd rationalized. Herself all done up like some gothic princess, and him in a rented tux with that stupid sword strapped to his back and looking - - just really, really good. She'd lost her hold on common sense for a little bit and all she'd been thinking about was how earnest he'd looked, trying to talk her into dancing with some other guy - - and how his mouth would taste if she kissed him.

She wasn't sure if Atticus had done her a favor or not, shattering that moment, because even now when she'd come back to her senses, she still wondered how his lips would feel.

When she got around to checking her voice mail, she was sitting on the bed in her mom's rented apartment in the city. She listened to it once and sat there, Depeche Mode crooning in the background over her ipod dock speakers, thinking, _is this a joke_?

She listened to it again, heard the real panic in his voice, and the real sounds of violence in the background and sat there staring wide eyed at her reflection in the mirror on the wall for a minute. Then she called Curtis and got his voice mail. She didn't have his home phone number. She didn't have Todd's. She sat there a moment more, silently mouthing _fuck_, before scrambling off the bed, grabbing her purse and the keys to her mother's car and heading out of the apartment.

It was an hour's drive from the city to the community of Crowley Heights. She made it in about forty, breaking every speed limit between the city and there and screeched to a stop in front of Curtis Weaver's house.

She'd been making calls during the drive. The Crowley sheriff's department _didn't take kindly to prank calls, thank you miss_. And if she had a real missing person to report, she needed to wait twenty-four hours before filing a report and not to waste their time before that. She'd tried Curtis a few more times, as well as Todd's cell, but both went straight to voice mail. Neither returned her texts.

That bad feeling in her gut that had started to churn the moment she'd listened to Todd's desperate message was starting to outright bubble now.

The front right tire was halfway up on the curb, but she didn't care. Nor did she feel any shred of guilt pounding on the Weaver's front door at almost midnight. Eventually a broad woman in a worn pink house robe answered, giving Jenny a, cross look.

"Is Curtis home?" Jenny asked before the woman could complain of the time. One overly plucked eyebrow lifted. Two or three of her chins jiggled as she considered, giving Jenny a dubious once over.

"_You're_ here to see _Curtis_?" As if the idea of a girl showing up asking for her son was absolutely baffling. Jenny had to wonder if Curtis had ever invited Hannah to his house.

"I am," Jenny confirmed and despite all odds, managed to squeeze past the woman and into the house. "His room down here?"

The woman sort of gestured then bellowed. "Curtis, there's a girl here to see you."

Jenny figured out which door was his by the 'trespassers will be prosecuted' sign tacked to it. She swung the door open and caught him in the process of reaching for it on the other side. He gaped at her in surprise, paint smudging his face and t-shirt, a few spatters of it on his metal arm. His room was a cluster fuck of a mess, but there was a cleared space around the wall at the foot of the bed where a life-sized mural was in the process of being painted. It was the sort of thing he or Todd might wear on a T-shirt, a half finished Viking on a red-eyed horse in the background and a scantily clad, angel-winged Valkyrie hovering in the foreground. A Valkyrie who looked like Hannah. If Hannah had had gravity defying boobs and a body more reminiscent of a Frazetta album cover than anything the real girl had boasted.

The likeness wasn't bad, and it was sort of bitter sweet that he'd immortalized her on his bedroom wall - - Jenny gave the boobs one more skeptical glance before pouncing on Curtis, who still hadn't managed to close his mouth.

"What the hell, Curtis? Why don't you answer your damn phone?"

"Jenny." He finally got out, wiping paint smeared fingers on his boxers. Curtis in his boxers was the last thing she needed to see, but she really wasn't in the mood for modesty. "What are you doing here?"

"Has Todd called you?"

He kept blinking at her, lagging behind. "Uhh, I lost my phone this morning."

She let out and exasperated little hiss and dug her cell out of her purse, keyed up Todd's voice mail and thrust it at Curtis. He stood there, listening, eyes growing saucer round before he dropped his hand and looked at her with dawning comprehension.

"Fucking - - balls - -" he whispered.

"Yeah. He left that about an hour and half ago."

Curtis hit replay and listened to the message again, eyes narrowing towards the end. "I know that voice - - the guy at the end - - I know who that is."

"Do you know where he was talking about?"

Curtis nodded, thrusting the cell back at her and making a grab for the nearest pair of pants on the nearest pile of dirty clothes. "Yeah. I know. We used to play there when we were kids. The woods behind the bottling plant off Dunbarton Road."

"All right then. Let's go." She turned on her heel and stalked out, afraid that every second she wasted would be one second too much.

"Wait a sec," Curtis veered off towards a closet in the hallway and Jenny stopped, blowing out a breath in impatience.

"We don't have time - -" Then she stopped, arching a brow when Curtis pulled out a shotgun from a tangle of brooms and mops and other various household clutter all stuffed into a tiny broom closet.

"My dad only keeps it loaded with shells filled with birdseed," Curtis said. "But it still hurts like hell."

Jenny didn't have the slightest argument with that. In fact, she gave him a grim nod of approval and headed out. Curtis' mom's voice wafted to them as they were slamming out the front door for him not to wake them up if he was going to come back late.

They were barely down the front porch when the sky lit up like somebody had flicked the switch to a massive floodlight, and then the world shook, a deafening crash of thunder that made the ground tremble and shook the windows in the house.

"Holy crap - -" Curtis' curse was a high-pitched yelp behind her. Jenny had to remind herself to breathe, her heart lodged somewhere up around the area of her throat.

They both stared warily up at the sky, wind blowing up from a relatively calm night that made the trees in Curtis' front yard rustle and sway. The clouds were moving fast, dark shapes against the faintest illumination of moonlight.

"Crap - -" Curtis reiterated and moved around her, which got her moving again. "You got a car?"

"It's my mom's," she slid into the drivers seat and leaned to look through the passenger window at him when he lingered, checking out the crappy LeBaron like it was something to be proud of. "Come on, Curtis."

He slid in, settling the butt of the shotgun on the floor between his sneakers. "Your mom loaned you her car?"

"No," Jenny sniffed.

Curtis' eyes got wider. "You _stole_ your mom's car?"

"It was my _dad's_ car. But she took it when she left us," Jenny corrected, gunning the engine and burning rubber as she peeled away from the curb. "So tell me where we're going."

Jenny had just gone up a notch in Curtis' ranking of awesomeness. He'd never known a car thief. He and Todd had stolen a bike once, from a neighborhood bully when they'd been eleven, but they'd given it back, after spray painting it pink and slapping every one of Curtis' four year old cousin's Disney princess stickers they could find all over it. That was his experience with vehicular theft.

Jenny had stolen an actual car and driven like a bat out of hell from the city to get here - - for Todd. Curtis glanced at her determined profile, thinking wistfully, _Hannah would have done that for me _then flinching a little and tightening his grip on the barrel of the gun. _So would Todd._ Absolutely and without fail and why had Todd been asking her to check on _him_ in that frantic voice mail? Were the Satanists on the warpath and had Todd thought they might come after him, too?

"Satanists?" he said aloud. "I'm thinking Todd could sort of deal with those old geezers - -"

"Believe you me, when twenty or thirty geriatric psychos come at you - - it's a lot harder to fight them off than you'd think."

He nodded absently.

"I don't know if it is them - - you said you recognized the other guy? He didn't sound old to me. And other than that idiot Elliot, I thought all the other kids lost interest - -"

Curtis frowned, having forgotten that pertinent detail in his amazement over Jenny's car thievery. "Randy Savage. He just moved into town. I thought - - I thought he was a friend." He gave her a desperate look. "I don't understand."

"A new friend?" She cast him a scathing look. "So you made a new friend, who's done something to your old _best_ friend - -but you couldn't be bothered to notice, because you've been too busy holding a grudge for something that's _wasn't_ his fault, you asshole."

He clamped his mouth tight. The last couple of times she'd railed at him over this, he'd shut her out, too wrapped up in his own misery to listen. This time, this time he felt sort of sick. He _was_ an asshole, snubbing his nose at Todd's attempts to make things right. And Todd had tried really hard, before he'd backed off, as hurt as Curtis was. As lost maybe and that had been a good thing at the time, because it meant Curtis wasn't suffering alone. And now Todd was in trouble and if anything happened to him - - without Curtis telling him that he was sorry - - that he missed him so much it hurt - - Curtis didn't want to think about it.

Curtis leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the gun barrel.

"Where's the turn off?" Jenny broke him out of it, and he looked up to see woods coming up on the right.

"Slow down," he peered through the darkness, trying to spot an unmarked dirt tract. They found it and she pulled in, car bouncing along over all the ruts in the road. The taillights of another car got reflected in the headlights of theirs, and she pulled to a stop behind it. She pulled out a can of pepper spray from her purse and a penlight from the glove compartment and warily got out.

"Pepper spray and a stolen car? You're badass."

"Shut up." Then she relented. "With all the shit I've been through, pepper spray is the least of the weaponry I should be carrying."

They called Todd's name a few times, but nobody answered. The wind was getting pretty rough, blowing leaves and bits of pieces of forest debris into their faces. Jenny's hair was all over the place, until she dug a hair band out of her pocket and haphazardly pulled it up into a tail at the back of her neck. She shined the light into the car, but it was abandoned, no sign of anybody near by either. They exchanged looks at the front end, then Jenny swung the beam of her penlight into the trees and they moved into the woods.

Todd had no idea where he was going. The darkness and the wind whipping through the black shapes of trees ate up all his sense of direction. Maybe more than the night and the storm. He felt a little bit disjointed, a little bit dazed, like he'd smoked some bad weed and gotten one fucked up high. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath, trying to get his head to stop spinning, not believing for a second they'd let him go just like that. He traced fingers over the unmarred skin of his chest again, amazed every time he touched it that it wasn't mutilated and bleeding. The remnants of his shirt were sticky with drying goat's blood against his back, so he shrugged it off, cringing at the tacky feel of it.

There was another rumble of thunder, not the earth shattering one that had heralded the return of the Book, but just the regular sort that came hand in hand with summer thunderstorms. He wished the sky would stop playing hard to get and just cut loose with the rain so it would wash the blood away.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he squinted into the darkness, some sixth sense warning that he wasn't alone anymore. He pushed off the tree carefully, straining his ears to pick up the sound of pursuit. It was hard to hear anything over the whistle of wind and rustling leaves.

Another flash of lightning, closer by and with a crack a limb crashed down somewhere to his left. In the fading light of the strike, he saw the silvery shape of a wolf. A really big wolf. An unprecedented sight to be sure, in Crowley Heights. It looked right back at him, eyes gleaming long after the light had faded. It lowered it head, hackles rising and growled.

"Fuck - -" he breathed, all that bullshit about not turning your back on wild animals and showing fear going right out the window. He turned and hauled ass, managing avoid smashing into trees by blind luck and quick reflexes. But he could hear it behind him, the padded thump of its paws as it bounded after him, faster with its four legs than he was with his two.

He splashed through a shallow little stream and his mind started working, recognizing that he had to be near the ruins now, and not much further the bigger stream that this little stream split off from. If he could make that and the field beyond it, there was the road. He turned to look back and the wolf was gone. He stumbled to a stop, scanning the darkness, looking for the glimmer of its eyes, the paler shadows of its fur.

He turned back around and it was right in front of him, maybe ten yards away. It padded forward and between one step and the next, faster than any transformation he'd ever seen in any werewolf flick, it went from wolf to human.

It went from wolf to Nikki, who never broke her stride, strolling towards him, hips rolling in that way she had that made anything with a dick get a little hard. Maybe he would have too, if she hadn't just changed from a wolf to a girl, and he didn't know she also had three dudes hiding somewhere in there, too.

"You didn't think it would be that painless, did you?" she purred.

"You bitch," It wasn't the best insult he'd ever hurled, but it fit, considering she'd just morphed from a furry, four legged canine.

She lifted a brow. "You didn't look close enough, lover. Wolf's got a package you wouldn't believe."

He stared at her a moment, before the gist of that got across. "Ewww - - just get the fuck away from me."

"Hmm. I don't think so."

He backed away slowly. "You said you were gonna let me go."

She shrugged. "I say a lot of things. And I don't want you dead - - yet. Doesn't mean we don't like having a little fun."

He opened his mouth, not liking the 'we' in that sentence. He was tired and he hurt - - a lot. He wanted nothing more than go somewhere safe and quiet and get high enough that maybe, just maybe when he passed out, he wouldn't have nightmares.

She sighed, circling him. "It's your own fault you know. We could have had so much fun. You could have ruled this sorry world and I'd have been right there, doing dirty, dirty things with you. But you fucked it all up."

"Dream on. Like I'd have you."

She lifted a dark brow, amused. "Oh, baby, you're so naïve. It's almost sweet."

She was just there right in front of him and he'd missed her closing the distance. It was scary as shit and he'd seen some scary shit. And he'd fucked her." If and when I want you again, you'll be begging me for it."

He took a step backwards and came up against a tree. She moved in, sliding a hand down and palming him. Squeezing hard enough to hurt. He shut his eyes, exhaustion and shock making his legs weak.

"You got what you wanted - - please - - just - - just leave me alone."

"We could." She ducked her head, clever little tongue flicking out to lick the indention between his clavicles where blood had pooled. He shut his eyes, shuddering. "But that would assume we understood the concept of mercy - - and little dude, its been a long damn time since we practiced any of that."

Todd snapped his eyes open in surprise at the octave or two drop at the end of that sentence. He had to look up instead of down, and found himself staring into Brody's weathered blue eyes, the other two Metal Dudes blocking him in on either side. The hand was still on his package and he hissed, knocking it away. Brody didn't move though, just shifted the hand to press it against the tree trunk on one side of Todd's head.

"Didn't think the little bitch was ever gonna give up the reins."

"Give a bitch a yard and she thinks she's running the whole show," Rob sneered.

Eddie just leered at him, grinning like a psychopath in a cheesy horror flick about to go to work cutting up his latest victim.

"What do you want?"

"Like she said - - we're just lookin' for a little fun," Rob said.

"But you fucked that up, loser." Eddie.

"You fucked the prophesy, little dude, and you fucked it good. I gotta give you props for that. Now it's anybodies call what might happen. You might go over the edge and use the Book to bring hell down on earth after all - - with the right prompting. Then again, you might turn around and screw us royal like, given the chance."

"It's a dice roll." Rob.

"And we don't mind a little gambling, loser."

"Long as the dice are loaded." Brody finished up.

"What the fuck are you three dickholes talking about?"

Brody smacked him lightly upside the head. "You'll find out, little dude, if you get your hands back on the book again. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."

Jesus. More half assed hints and innuendo. It was all he seemed to get from people when he was honestly trying to understand Book craziness.

"You guys either need to kick my ass, or back the fuck off and let me go, because I am so over this night."

Brody canted his head, considering.

"You remember that night when Nikki rocked your world?"

The other two laughed and Todd looked between them suspiciously.

"So do we, loser." Eddie leaned in close, grinning and Todd began to get a little nauseous, everything below the waist clenching and contracting.

"You didn't impress us very much - - but you know, virgin and all." Rob.

God. Utter embarrassment.

"Nikki, she's sort of a bitch, you know. Not much on second chances - - but the Beast - - the Beast ain't so picky."

"Wolf likes to play," Eddie sneered suggestively. "If you know what we mean?"

It took him a moment to get it, then that curl of nausea started traveling up his esophagus and turning to bile at the back of his throat.

"You - - sick - - fucks." He snapped, shoving hard at Brody's chest. They were too close and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Brody took a step backwards and Todd shouldered past him out into open space, able to breathe again.

"We'll give you a count of ten, before we let the dog back out."

"Woof." Rob mimicked, Eddie snickering beside him.

_Shit. Deep, quicksand like shit. _He had a flash of memory of Atticus' crazy ass metal musical and the batshit crazy material that had spewed out of Atticus' twisted imagination. At the time, he'd been a little too focused on making out with Jenny on stage than really taking in the not so subtle theme of the play. A teenage boy getting sacrificed to a sexually depraved wolf in the woods because of a bargain his devil-worshipping father had made with a demon? Coincidence?Really?

He spun and ran, suddenly feeling a lot more sympathy for Atticus Murphy than he'd managed to work up before.

Whether or not they counted to their promised ten, he had no idea, but it didn't seem that long, before he heard the howl of a wolf. He ran harder, sneakers flying over the dark ground, dark shapes of trees flashing past, low branches snapping at him as he swept past. Don't look back. It wouldn't change anything knowing if the thing was on his heels and only make him more likely to loose his footing or run into a tree. He felt it though, snarling on his heels. Imagined the heat of its breath on his back, and he couldn't help himself, flashing a look over his shoulder. It wasn't as close as he'd imagined, but it was there, bounding after him almost leisurely - - playing with him.

His foot caught on a root and he staggered, skidding forward in the loose mulch of leaves and pine tags. He twisted, not wanting his back to it. If he was going down he was damned and determined to fight to his last breath.

There was an echoing crack that he thought was another lightning hit, but there was no light and the wolf yelped, knocked off its trajectory towards him. Another booming crack and the wolf spun, sprawling into the bramble.

Todd stared, shocked into momentary incomprehension, until his name was screeched from out in the woods and he swung his gaze around, half thinking it was Jenny's voice. And had those been shots?

They came out of the shadows, Jenny - - it _was_ Jenny - - with twigs in her hair and a tiny flashlight in her hand, Curtis behind her, a little slower, splitting open a shotgun and pulling out two used shells. Todd had to wonder if somehow or another, the Metal Dudes or Nikki had done something to him and he was in the midst of tripping. Not a bad trip by any means, because Jenny had skidded to her knees next to him and was wrapping her arms around him, and Curtis was looking really worried and really bad assed aiming the shotgun into the night.

"God, are you okay? Are you okay?" she was demanding and her hair smelled really good and she was warm and soft and he just leaned into her, everything else swaying a little around him.

"Is that your blood, dude?" Curtis had come over, dropping to one knee and pushing Todd back a little with his metal hand, staring at the dark stains on his chest. Jenny juggled the penlight and looked herself.

"Oh crap - - are you bleeding?"

He shook his head numbly. "Not anymore."

"What happened?" She asked the question he didn't know exactly how to answer, with everything sort of trying to fold in upon him now that running for his life wasn't a priority.

"Todd - -?" she pressed.

"We ought to get out of here." Curtis held out his metal hand and Todd stared at it a second dazedly before it occurred to him to grasp it and let Curtis pull him up. He staggered, and Curtis got a shoulder under one arm, Jenny sliding up under the other.

"Man, you totally shot that wolf." That came out a little slurred.

"Where is the damned thing?" Jenny asked, craning her neck and looking into the patch of bramble it had been knocked into. It was gone.

"Damn," Curtis muttered, and swung the muzzle of the gun down with his free hand.

He thought about mentioning that the wolf was Nikki _and_ the Metal Dudes, but then he'd have to explain other things. Things that he wasn't up to explaining - - that he wasn't sure he wanted to admit, especially to Jenny. It was easier just to shut up and move as fast through the woods as they could in the dark, with his strength coming and going in waves that made his knees watery and his mind blank out here and there. Shock. Maybe he was going into shock.

They reached the chain blocking the service road, and there was a second car there, pulled up behind the one Randy had brought him here in. A dark blue Chrysler. Jenny abandoned him, a sad departure of her warmth and the press of her boob against his side, and hurried around to the driver's side.

"Whoa, who's car?"

Curtis hefted the shotgun and reached for the passenger door. "She stole it."

Todd blinked, standing there absorbing that a second, before Curtis nudged him to get into the car.

"I borrowed it," Jenny said shortly. "And it was my dad's, so I have more right to it than that bitch."

Todd settled into the passenger seat and cast a look over his shoulder at Curtis, feeling really, really out of the loop.

"How'd you find me?" It occurred to him that was a pertinent fact as Jenny backed down the road, spitting up dirt and debris from spinning tires. He put a hand on the dash as she swung the tail end around, almost into a tree, then gunned it forward, bouncing down the dirt road.

"I got your voice mail," she finally said, then softer. "What happened, Todd? You said Satanists."

"Yeah." He slouched into the seat, wrapping his arms about himself. Still feeling the ghost pain of the knife slashing into his chest. He shut his eyes and grimaced.

"Damnit, Todd, what happened back there?" Her voice rose a little, annoyed at him.

"Give him a second," Curtis said from the back seat. Quiet like. Curtis hadn't said a whole lot since they'd found him. Curtis hadn't said a whole lot to him in a long time, but that was okay, because he'd come after him with Jenny - - who'd been in the city with her mom.

"Did you steal your mom's car and drive all the way from the city to find me?"

"What?" she gave him a narrow, defensive look. "It was no big deal. I was thinking of visiting anyway - -and you know, getting a call saying you'd been kidnapped by satanists was just sort of the deciding factor."

"You stole a car for me." He was stuck on that.

She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Was - - was Randy involved?" Curtis asked from the backseat.

Todd narrowed his eyes at the name. "That asshole. Yeah."

"He's involved with the satanists?"

"He is one. Not the old geezers from here. A bunch of new guys."

"I'm sorry," Curtis said, really softly.

Todd twisted his head to look back at Curtis. "Its not your fault, dude."

Curtis stared at him, wide eyed and sort of spooked, before he turned away, looking out the window.

"What did they want with you?" Jenny popped the million-dollar question and he blew out a breath, hating to even voice the words. But they needed to know. He leaned his head back against the headrest and broke the news hard and fast.

"The Book's back."


	6. Chapter 5

**5**

They ended up going to Jenny's house. After Todd springing the monumental news that the Book of Pure Evil was back and then shutting down, Jenny decided they needed someplace private to pry the details out of him. Going to Todd or Curtis' house at 1:30 in the morning and having to deal with potentially nosy parents was out of the question, so Jenny's house it was.

The house sat dark and empty when she pulled into the drive. After a little over a month, it smelled musty and unlived in when she unlocked the door and walked in, Curtis and Todd shuffling behind her. Curtis still had his shotgun, like he thought somebody might come after them still. Todd just looked dead on his feet. And bloody. He was sporting bruises that she hadn't been able to see in the dark, like he'd been ruffed up pretty bad and that made her stomach churn a little. He absently rubbed at his chest, flaking away dried blood.

"You can use the shower. Go get cleaned up," which was a massive act of generosity on her part, since she was dying to sit him down and start getting explanations. He looked at her little blankly like all the pistons in his head weren't firing off properly - - not an entirely unfamiliar look with him - - but this time she figured it was shock rather than him being stoned or forced to endure one of Hannah's complicated, scientific theories.

She looked past him, at Curtis, who was clutching the shotgun to his chest with a faint furrow between his brows like he was deep inside his own head; not much help there. So she caught his hand and got him moving by show and tell, leading him to the bathroom off her parent's bedroom and giving him a push inside.

"Wash the blood off, Todd. I'll find one of my dad's old shirts you can wear."

He took a breath, looking at her finally with something resembling comprehension. "Okay."

She left him to it, wondering back through the house, checking on her room just to make sure it was the same as when she'd left a month ago. It was. Still a few clothes she hadn't had room to pack laid out on the bed.

Curtis was standing in the living room when she made it back, still holding the gun. She raised a brow at him.

"You can put that down, if you want."

He looked down at it, then back up at her. "You heard what he said, right?"

"Yeah."

"Balls," he said softly, looking as horrified as she felt at the notion.

"Yeah, that sort of sums it up." She flopped down on the couch and he finally moved to put down the gun, propping it next to the front door and sitting down on the other end from her.

"He looks pretty messed up," Curtis said. "Like somebody wailed on him."

Jenny frowned, pulling hard on the stray lock of hair she'd been twining around a finger. It pissed her off. She wished they'd run into more than a dog in the woods for Curtis to shower with shotgun propelled birdseed. She wished whoever had done that to Todd was within her sights right now. She'd pull that trigger without hesitation. She blew out a breath, a little surprised at herself at that wash of violence and looked back up at Curtis.

"This new friend of yours?"

Curtis' metal fist clenched. "Maybe. The Metal Dudes tried to run him down the other day, too. Banged him up a little."

"What?" that came out a little shrill. "Why didn't anybody tell me? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with guys and their lack of basic skills of communication?"

Curtis shrugged, not having an answer to that. Jenny rolled her eyes and simmered.

They sat for a while, not talking, each of them caught up in their own pretty awful memories of the chaos the book could make of perfectly ordinary lives. Then Todd shuffled back out, in one of her dad's old under shirts she'd laid on the bed for him to find. Her dad hadn't been a t-shirt sort of guy and all he'd owned were white Haynes, and this one was stretched tight across Todd's shoulders, a little translucent around the neck where his wet hair was soaking the cloth. He looked wiped out and slightly uncomfortable, like the last thing he wanted to do was have to sit down and talk about what had happened.

Which was tough shit. Jenny's compassion wasn't her most developed characteristic and this was important. The world shattering sort of important.

"Sit down. Spill," she ordered.

He breathed out a put upon breath and flopped down on the couch between her and Curtis.

"The Book's back."

"Yeah, you said that already. How?"

He cast her a quick, wary look from under his lashes and a fall of damp hair, then shrugged and turned his attention to picking at a loose thread hanging from the hole in the knee of his jeans. "Y'know, Satanists."

"We don't know. Start from the beginning."

He sighed again, and mumbled. "I got a text from Curtis tonight - - asking to meet him at school."

"I didn't text you," Curtis piped up.

"I know, dude," Todd looked up at Curtis, total conviction in that absolution. "It was Randy Fucking Savage. Him and couple of guys jumped me in the parking lot."

"I - - I lost my phone this morning - -" Curtis said a little numbly, eyes wide with dismay.

"Lets assume this Randy guy stole it," Jenny rolled a hand to get things moving.

"Anyway, they dragged me out to the woods where there were a bunch of other guys - - Satanist guys - - but like, young and really scary - - with this one guy who was like their high priest or something who looked like - - I shit you not - - Danzig."

"No shit?" Curtis mouthed, appropriately amazed. "Like Danzig now or Danzig from Lucifuge?"

"Well, sort of a cross - -he had more tats - -"

"God," Jenny threw out her hands and yelled. "Could we get off the name that Danzig portion of the show and get on with the story?"

Todd cast her a sullen look, as if she'd interrupted the most important part of the whole fiasco. "Yeah, well, he was a dick anyway - - and oh, Nikki was there - -" he added, as if that were just a minor detail.

"Nikki Kane?" Her voice kept getting embarrassingly shrill without her meaning it to.

"No, Nicki Minaj," Todd said sulkily, still annoyed at her dismissal of their Danzig classification.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he ducked his head and shrugged. "Yeah, her. So anyway, there were all these like Metal Satanist dudes and they were like chanting and I dunno, having this big satanic circle jerk - -"

"Wait a minute," Jenny waved a hand. "Back to Nikki - -"

"She brought them some stuff." He cringed a little, then chewed his lip, thinking hard. "I think maybe she was working with them - - or they were working for her - - she wasn't part of the - - of what they did."

"What did they do?" Curtis asked, a bare whisper.

Todd opened his mouth, shut it, scratching absently at his chest through the t-shirt. "The Danzig guy - -he um - - carved a symbol into my chest. I don't know what - - something satany, I guess - - that's where all the blood was from - -"

"He what?" Jenny leaned over, hands going for his shirt. "Let me see."

He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, blocking her access, suddenly developing a case of modesty.

"It's gone," he muttered. "After the book was free - - it just faded away. But - -I can still sort of - - feel it, a little." He dropped his forehead to his knees, breathing hard.

"Todd, how - -?" she started, but Curtis slashed a hand at her, and snapped.

"Give him a minute, Jenny."

"She said," Todd finally mumbled, forehead still resting on his knees. "She said I'd locked the book away and the only way to get it back was to break the locks. Whatever they did - - I felt it - - inside." He narrowed his eyes, the look he got when he was trying hard to figure out something inexplicable. "Like - - like somebody taking a bat to a windshield and the first couple of hits all it does is fracture and then it just - -" he looked up splaying out his fingers in an exaggerated motion of explosion. "Then the book was just there. And they let me go after."

"And these guys have it?"

"No. It flew away."

"Figures. Is that all?" Jenny prodded, not believing it.

"Well," Todd shrugged. "That wolf you shot was the Metal Dudes. And Nikki."

Curtis mouthed _holy shit_. Jenny just narrowed her eyes and figured they were lucky to be getting the details they'd gotten out of him.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Todd finally asked. It was enough to break through the tension that had built all through Todd's sketchy explanation. Jenny let out a breath and shrugged.

"I've been gone for a month. I wouldn't trust anything left in the fridge. I've got water."

She went into the kitchen, broke open a pack of bottled water under the counter and tossed two at the guys.

"Listen, I'm gonna go change, and brush the twigs out of my hair." She plucked one out from her ponytail for emphasis.

"Jenny - - thanks for y'know - - coming after me and all." There was a certain awkward uncertainty in his voice that made her take a breath and remind herself of all the reasons she'd used to talk herself out of him to begin with. She felt a little uncertain herself all of sudden. A little flustered.

"It was nothing. You'd do it for me, right?"

Todd slouched there on Jenny's couch, in Jenny's house - - Jenny's bedroom just down the hall - - a place he'd never actually been invited into before - - and felt nothing but numb. And tired and all he wanted to do was topple over, press his face to the couch and just sleep for twelve hours straight.

And he'd never in all the time he'd known Curtis felt uncomfortable when it was just the two of them, and maybe Curtis was feeling the same way, because he was sitting there, chewing on the metal tip of one prosthetic finger.

"Its not your fault - - about the text - -" Todd finally ventured, crumpling the empty plastic water bottle, just to be doing something with his hands.

Curtis made a sound, a choked off snort. "So was he hanging out with me just to - - what - - get at you?"

Todd shrugged.

"Swear to God, if I see him again, I'm gonna jack him right in the nuts."

"I already did - - a couple of times."

Curtis raised a brow at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, he was still walking funny last I saw him."

"Cool," Curtis nodded, then looked down at his knees, the fingers of both real and fake hands clenching a little, before he blurted. "Man, I'm really sorry."

"Its okay, it wasn't your fault - -"

"Not about that. About - - you and me - - since Hannah - - you know?"

Todd stared at him, wide eyed and not knowing what to say to that, when he'd been agonizing over it all summer. A whole different sort of ache centered around his chest, distracting him from the echoes of the faded symbol. "You had your reasons, dude. I did sort of - - make it happen."

"No," Curtis shook his head. "You didn't know. _I_ didn't know. She never told me. I just really needed somebody to be pissed at and you were it. I was pissed at me too - -that I couldn't do anything to save her. So being angry at you was like a double whammy maybe - - I got somebody to blame with the added bonus of punishing myself."

Occasionally Curtis had flashes of brilliance when it came to understanding emotional conundrums that left Todd's head swimming. Todd wasn't entirely sure he followed this one.

"I missed you, dude." Curtis spelled it out for him. "I mean, I _really_ missed you and it felt like I deserved not having you - - as a friend - - for not coming through for her."

"That's sort of fucked up."

"I know," Curtis sighed.

Todd slouched a little deeper into the cushions. "I missed you, too,"

And Thank God Jenny wasn't in the room, because it was all rushing up on him, the whole damned terrible day, the pain, Nikki and the Metal Dudes making threats that he under no circumstances wanted to admit to any of his friends - - the book - and Curtis' forgiveness was the last straw that kicked him in the teeth and sent him over the edge in to utter wussiness.

He ducked his head letting his hair fall down and hide embarrassing wetness in his eyes. But he never had been able to hide anything from Curtis. Curtis hooked him around the neck with the metal arm, dragging him into a hug that was benediction and comfort and support and at the moment, he didn't even think a hug from Jenny could have topped this. He pressed his face into Curtis' shoulder and they both pretended he wasn't losing all semblance of dignity.

It had been a really long day.

The storm had gone from lightning and wind to a steady downpour of rain. It came in through the broken windowpanes of the church and created puddles on the floor. It was dry in the sanctuary behind the alter and Hannah huddled there, as she'd sat for countless nights before, only this night she wasn't afraid of the world at large, ignorant and empty. She was afraid of herself. Of what she was - - of what she might not be - - a real girl at all.

That was a familiar fear. But this time she knew the basics of the reality behind it. She was a clone. One of multiple attempts by her parents - - where they really even her parents or just the scientists who'd made her? - - to splice the living DNA of the Book of Pure Evil into a human being. She'd only heard a snippet of their recorded notes that night - - the last night she remembered before coming back to herself here - - but it had been enough. Genetic manipulation, gene splicing, cloning - - revolutionary cloning, actually - - maybe even the first successful human clone - - and perhaps she'd be a little more thrilled at the prospect of that breakthrough if she weren't so personally invested. She was perfect down to the last freckle, she'd checked in the mirror over the washroom in the rectory. The only thing missing was the place on her side where the skin had grown leathery and rough over the last few weeks of her previous life. Where disturbing knotty scar tissue had formed the shape of an inverted pentagram. The same shape that was on the cover of the Book. But it had vanished completely leaving only smooth, healthy skin. Or perhaps this body had never had it to begin with.

And maybe, if she'd only discovered that she was something created in a vial and grown in a tube, her rational brain might be able to accept it and adjust. It was the other pertinent detail that had her trembling and doubting the veracity of herself. She had died. She'd seen her grave, been drawn to that grave when she'd known nothing else. You could clone a body, but you couldn't clone a personality. You couldn't clone memories and experiences - - not without some process of mapping the neurons and the pathways of the brain and as far as she knew - - there was no such technology. But the Book was involved and Hannah's ultra rational mind had been stretched and confounded during all the months that they'd been dealing with it and she'd had no choice but to accept that there were things in the world that had no scientific explanation. As much as she hated to admit it, there _was_ magic in the world that defied all the laws of science and reason.

Whatever had happened to her, the Book was at the center of it. And the last time she'd seen the book, it had been in Todd's hands and Todd had been on the verge of turning into the Pure Evil One. Or had he already turned? She wasn't quite sure, for that was when the pain had started inside her, growing outwards from that patch on her side, becoming so bright and intense that after a while, it had eaten her and she'd known nothing at all. She wondered if that's when she'd died. She tightened her grip around her knees - - no distancing herself rationally from the notion of death - - her own death. Curtis had been there and suddenly the thought of what he must have suffered made her throat swell and her eyes well with salty wetness. Time hadn't held a lot of meaning for her while she'd been a shell, but she thought a good deal of it must have passed. Her hair was matted and dirty, and her skin barely skin colored through the grime.

But other than the rain and the wind, and the occasional crack of thunder in the distance as the storm worked it way east, the world was very much what the world had always been. Which meant Todd hadn't brought hell down upon it. Good for him.

She needed to understand. She needed to find out what had happened between the gaps in her memory. She needed to make sure the people that mattered to her were okay. She needed to see Curtis. But the thought of what he might think of her was terrifying. What if he thought she was a monster? What if he were afraid of her? What if he found out what she really was - - a girl grown in a metal embryo, an unholy mix of human genes and the living cells of an evil, evil Book? What if he hated her?

She could try to go to Todd, but then what Todd found out, he'd inevitably share with Curtis. Besides, his strong point was _fighting_ monsters, not figuring out the reasons behind their existence.

Jenny might understand. Jenny had a rational head most of the time, even if her tact was sometimes lacking. Jenny was a friend and painful as it might be if she looked at her with derision, Hannah thought she could survive it. And she needed a friend, badly. For her own sanity, she needed someone to look at her and recognize her as something other than a girl freshly grown in a tube.

_Well, shit._ Jenny stopped in the doorway to the living room fresh from a quick shower herself - - she'd found a spider in her hair from all the running around in the woods and spiders in hair were never good - - all prepared for a little bit more prying into things that had been going on since she'd been gone, only to find Todd and Curtis dead to the world. Todd was sprawled against Curtis who was sprawled against the arm of the couch, like a couple of ten year olds that had stayed up too late during a sleepover.

She sighed, grabbed the throw from over the back of the sofa and tossed it over them, and tromped back to her room. She'd left the city in such a rush, she'd left her laptop and her ipod and her favorite clothes. It was only an hours drive, but damned if she wanted to confront her mom and get into an argument about where she was going to live. She was staying in Crowley Heights and her mom could just deal. In fact she'd been doing fine on her own for months before her mom developed a conscience. Or, more accurately a conscience centered around the need for some of Jenny's inheritance. If it hadn't been for that, Jenny doubted she'd have given her a second thought.

The Book was back and it had brought a whole new set of troubles with it, and Todd needed her. He and Curtis couldn't deal with figuring their way out a paper bag alone, much less figure out how to deal with all the Book craziness without somebody who didn't figure getting totally baked was a good way of analyzing complicated dilemmas. And without Hannah - - well, Jenny was willing to make the sacrifice and be that someone. It most certainly wasn't that she'd been looking for a reason to convince herself to come back home. It wasn't that she'd actually missed him.

Them.

Missed _them_. _Get it straight, damnit_.

Too wired to sleep herself, she flopped down on her bed, comfortable in sweatpants and a tank top, and flipped on the TV. Not a lot on at almost 3 in the morning, but she managed to find a rerun of the Gilmore Girls and settled back to watch Lorelei and Rory hash out problems less complicated and a lot less dangerous than hers.

Still, it was good to be home.

Elliot Everwood was a joiner. The sort of kid that joined everything, every group, every sport he could manage to get accepted onto, every club, every social network and plodded along with the cheerfulness of the supremely oblivious, hardly ever realizing that he excelled at very little, until someone inevitably pointed it out. He wasn't particularly smart or fit, or charming or good looking. He was the middle child of a middle child and had neither the intellect of his older sibling or the innate cuteness of his younger. He was, to put it bluntly, a middling in every respect.

But Elliot was okay with that. He expected very little, and was seldom disappointed when he never got chosen for a top spot in this sport or that school club or band. (His clarinet playing was rather like someone scraping nails across a chalkboard inside the ears.) So it when he finally did find something he was good at, it was especially heart wrenching when it was taken away. He'd been an excellent minion. The best Mr. M had ever had. Mr. M had told him so and Elliot had never been the best at anything in his life.

The concept of Satanism was cool and all - - how could one big eternal orgy of drunkenness and sex not be, if Mr. M's nifty illustrated pamphlet could be believed - - but mostly, Elliot had loved the inclusion. He'd loved being Minion number 1. He'd loved the fact that Mr. M had trusted him with important tasks, when no one had ever really trusted Elliot with anything vital before. When no one had ever really relied on him to be anything but there, a middling son, a middling team member, a middling kid all around. Elliot had been needed and Elliot had loved Mr. M because of it.

And then Mr. M had gotten eaten by the book at the hands of Todd Smith and all that had been taken away.

Elliot wasn't the sort of kid that held grudges and it had sort of been Mr. M or Todd and Mr. M had sort of pushed Todd into taking up the book, Mr. M believing something that it turned out, wasn't true at all. And since everything went back to normal after Mr. M got eaten and Todd didn't bring about the fiery orgy Mr. M had promised - - he'd actually started doing summer yawn work - - Elliot didn't hold onto his grievances.

If anyone particularly deserved cross feelings, it was Curtis Weaver anyway, because he'd been the one to sway all the kids - - and a few of the teachers - - that Elliot had worked so hard to recruit away from Mr. M's Satanic society with the simple declaration that you didn't have to be a Satanist to get drunk and fuck. That Satanism was a derivative of plain old paganism and you didn't have to wear a funny robe or worship a dark lord to have fun. And not that Elliot didn't think that was fine and good - - he just hadn't wanted Mr. M to be disappointed.

He mourned. In fact, with school out for the summer and none of his various activities to be middling at, he spent a great deal of time and effort bemoaning the loss of the one person who had respected him and the one position in which he had excelled at.

It was during one of these sessions of self-pity, as he was reverently flipping through his very dog-eared, very worn copy of Mr. M's 'One Way Trip to Hell' pamphlet, that the curious thing happened. He'd gone to his room after dinner and a disappointing episode of Dancing with the stars, locked his door, even though his mom disapproved of the doing of things that might require the need of locked doors, and furtively opened his underwear drawer, slipping socks and tightie whities aside to reveal his most cherished possession. He'd taken it the day after Semi-formal, when classes had been cancelled due to the damage caused by the freak storm that had hit Crowley Heights and no place else. Mr. M would have wanted him to have it, he was sure, as he pressed his face into the soft weave of the sweater vest. He could almost still smell the scent of Mr. M's cologne. Ah, Old Spice. Mr. M had been a man of refined tastes.

He slipped it on, misty-eyed and sighing at the slightly scratchy feel against his nipples, and sat on his bed and looking at the beloved pamphlet and 'doing the devil's work' as his mom would say, with a hand under his briefs.

It was during the midst of this masturbatory expedition, that the book flapped through his open bedroom window to land with a surprising thump in the center of his bed.

He froze in mid-jerk, staring wide-eyed at the spark of ember red current that sizzled along the lines of the inverted pentagram on its cover. It was the Book. The one Mr. M had coveted more than anything. The one that had eaten him up and left Elliot with nothing but memories of his time in the sun. He should have hated this Book for what it had done to Mr. M, leading him on, then betraying him, but the lure of cracking open that withered hide cover was too great. It was as if it knew his greatest desire and the pages fell open to an engraved image in blood red ink of a horrified man. A beloved man, whose image had been captured in terrified denial as the Book he'd revered had betrayed him.

"Mr. M," Elliot sobbed, tracing the outlines with his finger. What he wouldn't give - -

As if the book had amazing etcha-sketch abilities, works began to appear, sprawled across the open pages.

_Demum sacrificium ultimum_

Elliot had no idea what they meant, dead languages not on the roster of Crowley High's various foreign language clubs, but he felt in his heart that somehow uttering them could only help Mr. M and Elliot Everwood was nothing if not helpful.

And quite suddenly he felt a pull. He felt the oddest sensation of unraveling. He actually looked down to see if he'd pulled a thread in the sweater and it might be coming apart at the seams. But no, it wasn't the sweater, it was him.

Elliot opened his mouth in a soundless cry of surprise, but it was too late. He'd already been sucked into the depths of the Book like juice through straw.

And in his place, sitting sprawled on his twin bed with its Aquaman sheets, sat a very bewildered man, wearing a sweater vest very much like the one Elliot had donned. In fact that selfsame sweater vest had been bought by this very man, a two for one discount sale at Larry's Casual Male during a 4th of July summer blowout. He'd bought six.

A curious little croak escaped him, before he toppled backwards, the vestiges of the excursion raking his body. Traveling to and from the Book was rather like having one's mind turned inside out, one's organs liquefied and excreted out through all one's bodily orifices, having one's skin torn off in strips and pasted back on the wrong side out.

He fainted. And roused a few moments later as his mind began to reset.

Like the girl huddling in a church on the other side of town, he'd been gone from this world since the night of a fateful high school dance, though his absence had been physical where hers had been a state of mentality. Unlike like that girl, his memories of that time were far from blank. He remembered every moment, every excruciating experience, and the hell inside the Book had been nothing like the hell he'd been promised, growing up under the tutelage of his father and satanic society of Crowley Heights. There had been no orgies, no steaming saunas of bubbly sex and depravation. No warm reception for those faithful followers of the dark lord.

There had only been terror and chaos and despair so huge that already, only moments back in the human plane his mind began partitioning off the worst of the memories, began in a desperate act of self-preservation to block out the most terrible aspects of that place.

Atticus Murphy Jr. sat there and breathed in cool air in a room that looked as if it belonged to a particularly large ten year old and realized with slowly dawning jubilation, that he was free.

He looked down, attention finally snared by the open pages of a regretfully familiar book. He canted his head, staring at the etching of the genuinely shocked face of a teenager.

"Holy Jupiter shit - -" he whispered. It was his faithful, if not a little slow, minion, Elliot Everwood. There were words over the etching. Atticus didn't even bother to do more than glance at them, before he slammed the book shut and flung it, much like a man might fling a snake he'd discovered slithering up into bed next to him, out the open window next to the bed. He sat there for a moment more, panicking no small bit. Traveling to hell and back or whatever hell was contained within the pages of the Book of Pure Evil, was not particularly conducive to a cool head and steady nerves.

He came close to tumbling off the bed when a woman's voice called through the closed door of the room. "Elliot, are you still awake? Why is this door locked? An angel dies every time you touch yourself, you know."

That wasn't the only thing that made angels die, and Atticus had slowly fading memories of some of those very things, even now. By the time she started rattling the doorknob, he was already scrambling out the window, falling rather ungracefully into the hedges outside. The Book, predictably was nowhere to be seen.

Which was fine with Atticus. If he never saw the cursed thing again, life would be just dandy. He would not however, be averse to encountering, preferably with a two-by-four in hand, Todd Smith, who had trapped him within that unsavory hell.

Todd Smith. Atticus stopped two blocks down from Elliot's house, clothes soaked through from the steady rain, and took a slow look around the quiet neighborhood with the late blooming realization that the world was not in fact immersed in the hell that the prophesy foretold upon the awakening of the Pure Evil One. Which meant either Todd had been a monumentally inept destroyer of worlds, or he'd somehow denied the age old prophesy and not plunged the world into an era of hell fire and chaos.

"Well - - damn." He found this lack of worldwide destruction rather comforting. At least it meant his house was probably intact, and all his clothes. These smelled little of wet sulphur.

He took stock of his surroundings and finally figured, after walking another four blocks of residential streets, where he was and how long it would take for him to walk back to his own home. He could deal with retributions after he'd put on dry clothes and had a nice cup of mint tea. His father had always frowned on it, but maybe he'd even splurge and add a nice big dollop of whiskey. Hell, maybe even two just to spite the old bastard. He'd earned it.

_Serves you right, idiot._ The censorious voice inside his head was not nearly so strong as it had once been. _Did you really think you had it in you to be the Pure Evil One? They were playing you for a fool and you were too stupid to see it._

"Shut up," he snapped at that annoying ghost of a dead father.

As he walked through the rain, down the dark street, ghost laughter echoed in his head.


	7. Chapter 6

6

Curtis woke with a crick in his neck, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, sprawled on an unfamiliar sofa, with Todd slumped next to him, face pressed against his shoulder. The first rational explanation that came to mind was they'd gotten totally baked and passed out and that it must have been really good weed because he didn't remember even smoking it. Much less smoking it with Todd, who's hair smelled oddly of strawberries and Todd's hair didn't usually exude a fruity scent. Curtis sniffed again, just to be sure and decided it was sort of nice.

He shut his eyes with a sigh, almost drifting back into sleep, for that one brief moment, everything the way it should be in the world. And then various sluggish neurons in his head began to sputter to life and things started to seep back into the forefront of his memory. Like the shotgun propped next to the door across the room and the crazy night that had prompted him to take it. And shoot it.

_Holy - - fuck_. Last night had been real. The bruises on Todd's face were real. The marks around his wrists were and Curtis could only guess how he'd gotten those. The Book was really back and a whole gaggle of bastards had hurt Todd to get it, including one that Curtis had thought wanted to be his friend. Curtis narrowed his eyes, curling the arm that was trapped behind Todd, feeling a big surge of protectiveness.

Todd groaned into his shirt at the disturbance of perfectly good sleep and blinked up at Curtis with the bleary ill will of a teenager roused indecently early.

"What the hell - -?" Todd mumbled, looking as confused as Curtis had felt when he initially woke.

"Jenny's couch. Jenny's house." Curtis filled him in.

Todd took a moment to process that, before pushing himself off Curtis and flopping backwards in the other direction. It had been so long since he'd had any contact with Todd, Curtis sort of missed the loss of it.

"Fuck. I feel like crap." Todd gingerly touched the worst of the bruising on the side of his face.

"The place where they cut on your chest still hurt?"

Todd mulled that over, one hand rubbing the spot through the borrowed t-shirt. He finally shook his head. "I don't think so. It's weird. Where's Jenny?"

Curtis shrugged. "Asleep maybe. I just woke up myself. Dude, your hair smells like strawberries."

Todd blinked at him. "What? Oh. Jenny's shampoo."

He ran fingers through it self-consciously.

"Last night was really messed up," Curtis ventured.

"Tell me," Todd huffed out a breath, then pushed himself up on his elbows and gave Curtis a look. "Dude, you totally shot that wolf."

Curtis swelled a little, feeling pretty proud of himself at the memory. Feeling pretty awesome that he'd not only shot the thing, he'd actually hit it. Twice. "I know. Pretty fucking cool, huh? It was just birdshot though. My dad never keeps shells with anything else."

"I didn't even know your dad had a gun."

Curtis shrugged. "I think he liked the idea of going out hunting when he was younger, but never really got around to it."

"Do you know what I wish I had right now?"

"A joint?" Curtis ventured.

Todd conceded to that logic with a shrug and quark of both brows. "Okay, you know what the _second_ thing I wish I had right now was?"

"Sand Dragon?" Curtis made an educated guess and Todd sat up, stabbing a finger at him in agreement.

"Fucking straight. In like one piece. I'd have messed those assholes up if I'd had her." He made an imaginary swipe with an imaginary sword just as the front door opened and Jenny walked in, a cardboard drink holder in one hand and a big McDonald's bag in the other.

"Jenny." Todd sat up a little straighter. He'd been a little too out of it last night to really pay her the attention he usually lathered on her. "I thought you were asleep."

She gave him a dry look, and sat the bag and the drink holder on the sofa table. "Its ten o'clock. I've been up for a while. You're the ones that lazed away the entire morning."

Then she shrugged and half smiled, waving a hand at the bounty of Mc'D's breakfast delights and said. "I thought you guys might be hungry."

"And how," Curtis was already making for the bag, spilling out a bevy of wax paper wrapped breakfast sandwiches.

Jenny was pretty damned amazing. Curtis could totally see what Todd saw in her, as he was stuffing an egg McMuffin into his mouth.

"So, everybody all right, this morning?" she asked casually, but she was totally eyeing Todd.

Todd shrugged, not as willing to admit his aches and pains to a girl he was desperate to impress, as he was to Curtis. "I'm good."

She sipped at her coffee, breaking a corner off the English muffin crust of her McMuffin, not looking like she bought that claim. "Good."

There was a period of nothing but crinkling paper and chewing and slurping while Curtis and Todd consumed the contents of Jenny's breakfast run. She sat there, swinging her leg over the arm of the chair, barely finishing her one sandwich, a furrow browed thinking look on her face.

"Sooo - you gonna get in trouble with your mom? You know, for stealing the car and taking off." Todd finally asked.

Jenny waved a hand dismissively. "Sooner or later. I'll deal. How about you? Shouldn't you call home before your mom has the police out after you? Not that they're worth anything - - probably all Satanists."

Todd shrugged. "She probably didn't even notice I was gone. She works the weekend shift."

"Mine don't care," Curtis chimed in.

"Well, " Jenny harrumphed. "Don't we all have shining examples of parental authority?"

Hannah left the church not long after dawn crept across the horizon. The rain had stopped during the night, but the grass was still wet and the air cool and moist. She stopped by the grave, almost afraid to look at it, trying to wrap her mind around the notion that there was a body under there that looked just like her. That maybe _was_ her. Or maybe it wasn't at all and she was making wild assumptions without the facts to back them up. She needed facts. She needed to piece things together and form a cohesive hypothesis. She needed to go home and change out of the tatters of the robe.

Her aunt would have been terribly distraught. Her aunt? What would her aunt think of her showing back up again, whole and hale? Did her aunt know what her parents had done with their cellular fusion and their cloning? Was her aunt even her aunt? Or just a caretaker appointed to watch over the thing the Dr's Williams had created in their laboratory?

She shook her head, feeling the shortness of breath that came with overwhelming panic. She forced calm, taking long deep lungfuls of air until the panic receded. She wouldn't know any of these things unless she made an effort to find out. She'd hidden long enough. So she made her way home to the yellow rancher she'd lived for as long as she could remember with an aunt who told her stories of parents she couldn't recall herself. She wondered now how many of those stories had been true and how many fabrication. She'd confront her aunt and demand answers. She deserved answers.

But when she reached her house, there was a for sale sign in the front yard, and no sign of life within when she peered through the windows. Everything inside was gone, leaving just barren rooms. Hannah sat on the front porch, in something akin to shock, her world turned, yet one more time, on its head. She felt sick and quivery in her belly. Her chin trembled, a sure sign that tears were on the way.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead, dear?"

She wiped a hand across her cheek and looked up at the old lady who lived next door. Mrs. Bixby was just a tad senile, but she'd always been kind to Hannah. She stood across the hedge, clippers in hand, a shower cap covering her wiry silver curls and stared at Hannah with a slightly hazy smile.

"Oh. Hello Mrs. Bixby. I - - ah - - think the rumors of my demise - - have been exaggerated - -" Hannah cringed a little at that quote, having no faintest notion how she might explain her current situation.

"Oh, well, good to hear," the old lady clipped an unruly branch.

"How - - how long has my aunt been gone?"

"Oh, almost a month now. Left not long after you died, you know. Moving vans were here lickety split the day after the funeral." The woman frowned, the incongruity of Hannah sitting there and the funeral flitting across her brain, then flittering off somewhere else entirely. She shrugged and continued her clipping.

"Oh," Hannah whispered. Over a month. That's how long it had been. Her perception of time hadn't been that clear - - before - - when she'd been simply existing.

"Goodness, dear, have you been rolling in the dirt?"

Hannah blinked wetness from her eyes and supposed she did look that way. "I was hoping - - to go home and - - and clean up - - but it looks like all my things are gone." She choked up. Everything gone. Her life gone. Her world view shattered.

"Well," Mrs. Bixby said. "I have a few of my daughter's clothes still here from when she was about your size. She's the size of a house now, poor dear, thyroid problems you know - but I'm sure they'll do just fine for you."

She washed up in Mrs. Bixby's bathroom, scrubbing accumulated dirt and grim from skin and hair. Stood there under luke warm water staring at her arms with their scattered freckles and doubting herself yet again. _I think, therefore I am._ She repeated that mantra. _But what am I? Were my parents really my parents or just the minds that created me?_ But no, even if they'd fused in the Book's cellular structure into a living host, they'd have to have had a fertilized egg to grow into a human being. And she'd seen the pictures of her parents and there were characteristics that she shared with both mother and father. So assume that they'd used their own genetic material to carry out their experiments. Just because she wasn't grown inside the womb of a woman, didn't mean she wasn't that woman's child.

As much as she loathed the idea of going back there, she badly needed to examine the notes in the laboratory under the retirement home. She needed to know not only what they'd been doing - - but why?

Mrs. Bixby fed her a breakfast of oatmeal and toast, and she consumed it reflexively, barely tasting the food barely hearing the old woman's chatter. She thanked her and went on her way, dressed in clothes that looked like they might have been from the early eighties and smelled faintly of mothballs. She didn't mind.

It took her about forty minutes to walk to Jenny's house. Most of it was spent in a haze of scientific speculation, wracking her brain dredging up every scrap of knowledge she'd ever read about the processes involved in cellular splicing. It wasn't until she actually reached her block that she started worrying about what she was going to say to Jenny. How she was gong to convince her keep Hannah's return a secret for just a little while, until Hannah could figure things out herself. She had been created at the behest of Satanists after all, so what if she turned out to be some sort of threat. She didn't want to put her friends in danger. She didn't want Curtis to look at her like she was a monster.

She hesitated in Jenny's front yard. The grass was yellowed and unruly, like no one had cut it for a while. There was a car in the driveway though, and Hannah took a breath for courage, and moved forward.

Forward was the only way open to her.

She'd barely gotten to the walk, when the front door opened and Jenny came out, which wouldn't have been such a terrible thing, if Todd hadn't been close on her heels. And behind him - - Curtis.

Hannah froze like a rabbit. Jenny did, resulting in Todd treading on her heels, and Curtis on his.

"What the fuck - -" Todd mouthed the question on all their stunned faces.

"Hannah - -?" Jenny took a few tentative steps towards her.

Curtis just stared, mouth agape, frozen on the porch.

Hannah felt sick. She felt the instinctive urge to flee. There was a low moaning sound of misery that she realized was issuing from her throat.

"You're dead." Todd got a wary shoulder between Hannah and Jenny, as if he thought Hannah might have a taste for brains. Hannah stood there and wrung her hands, edging ever so slightly backwards.

She shouldn't have come. The looks on their faces made her sick. She took a step backwards and her movement seemed to shake Jenny out of her wide-eyed shock.

"Oh my God," Jenny shoved Todd's arm out of her way and stared at Hannah with narrowed eyes. "How are you here? We saw you die."

"Th- -that's a complicated story." She was afraid to look at Curtis. She was afraid not to.

"Is it you?" Curtis whispered.

She shrugged miserably, not knowing if answering yes would be a lie and she didn't want to lie to him. "I think so. I don't know - -"

"Did you rise from the dead? Are you like a zombie?" Todd demanded suspiciously, still trying to get between Jenny and her.

"Would you stop it," Jenny finally gave him a frustrated shove and stalked a few paces closer to Hannah, just within reach. "You're not, right? A zombie? And oh my God, those shoulder pads are like the size of airplane wings."

Hannah shook her head in mute denial, self-consciously reaching up and adjusting one of the aforementioned pads blocking out her shoulders.

"My aunt moved away and took all my clothes - -" Hannah explained helplessly. That one was easy to explain.

"Oh - - damn - -" Jenny said and did what the guys were either too frozen or too wary to do, and rushed forward to wrap her arms around her. "Oh my God - - Hannah - -you're alive - -"

When she didn't start to try and gnaw on Jenny's flesh Todd cast a wide-eyed look back to Curtis, who was still staring.

"How - -?" Jenny was asking her.

She shook her head, having no idea where to start.

Curtis wasn't too proud to admit that he wasn't the sharpest knife in the block. That sometimes the complexities of things went right over his head, like invisible thought missiles glancing off super powerful physic shields protecting him from headache inducing conundrums. And this - - this had knocked him so far off his stride that his head was spinning.

He could deal with the bloodshed and the violence, and the adrenalin inducing fright of running through a woods filled with Satanists and maybe worse things at night hoping against hope he wasn't too late to find a friend. But Hannah - - he'd come to terms finally with her being dead. After weeks of heartache and helpless anger, he'd finally let himself begin to heal - - and he didn't know if he had it in him to deal if this was some Book generated prank come to turn their worlds upside down.

But she sounded like Hannah, and she looked like Hannah, even if she was dressed funny - - and the absolute misery in her big eyes and the quiver in her adorable little chin - - it was all Hannah. And she wasn't tearing Jenny's jugular out when Jenny hugged her close, so maybe she wasn't flesh-eating zombie Hannah either.

Then Jenny was pulling her by the wrist towards him and the house and it was all he could do to make his feet move and get out of the way to let them past. Hannah cast him a really quick glance, before she looked away, cheeks flushing pink. That was all Hannah, too.

Todd clamped a hand on his shoulder after the girls had gone inside, giving him a squeeze of encouragement. "It doesn't look like she's gonna try and eat us - - so that's a good thing."

"Yeah, that's great. What the hell's happening?"

Todd shook his head, at as much of a loss as Curtis. "You didn't use the book when I wasn't looking - - and wish her back or anything, did you?"

"Dude, no!" Curtis gave him a look and Todd shrugged in an 'I had to ask,' sort of way, before they made the simultaneous decision to bite the bullet and follow the girls inside.

Jenny had sat Hannah down in a chair and was perched on the sofa table in front of her, in the midst of asking questions that Hannah was mumbling answers to. Jenny looked up when they came in.

"This can't be a coincidence, the book showing back up and Hannah showing back up at the same time."

"The book's been gone?" Hannah looked up, eyes shying away from Curtis and flicking between Jenny and Todd, who sat down on the end of the table next to Jenny. Curtis couldn't make himself do more than stand a few feet away from Hannah's chair, staring at her.

"Yeah, Todd sent it away," Jenny reported.

"That's how - - that's how you died," Curtis whispered. "When the book went - - you - - you - -"

She looked up at him finally, eyes wide behind the glasses. "I remember - - a little from that night, before everything stopped - -I remember Todd getting the book - -" she turned her gaze to Todd. "You _did_ become the Pure Evil One?"

Todd looked down, uncomfortable. "Maybe. For a little bit - -"

"He used his power over the Book to banish it," Jenny stated. "He did the right thing no matter what the consequences and it wasn't easy." She directed that last towards Curtis, as if he hadn't already come to terms with _that_, too.

Hannah blinked, confused. "So if the Book has been gone all this time - - how is it back now?"

Todd shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Jenny didn't have that problem. She sniffed and hissed. "Last night. That bitch Nikki Kane stirred up a whole new bunch of Satanist assholes and they kidnapped Todd and performed some sort of fucked up ritual and brought the book back."

Hannah blinked. "Last night?"

"Yeah," Todd agreed reluctantly.

"During the storm?"

"I think the book _caused_ the storm."

Hannah stared into space for a moment, that look on her face that said that the gears in her big brain were working. Curtis had missed that look. He loved that look.

"That's when I came back. The exact moment _I_ came back," she whispered. "Somehow when the book went away, it must have taken me - - my essence? - - with it, and when it came back - -"

"So did you." Jenny finished when Hannah choked off. Then she blinked, as if a light bulb had just gone off in her head. "Wait a minute, did you say Nikki Kane?"

Jenny nodded, scowling.

"Oh no - -" Hannah clutched her hand to her breast. "I saw her. She - - she showed up yesterday - - I think - - before I - - before I knew who I was - - and she cut my hand."

"She what?" Jenny leaned forward, urging Hannah's hand away from her chest. There was a red edged, barely scabbed slice on her palm. It looked like it had cut deep and nasty. Curtis' gut clenched up at the sight of it. He'd never ever wanted to hit a woman before, but that bitch had hurt the two people who meant the most to him in the entire world and damn, but he was ready to make an exception.

"She took some of my blood and said - - I had something she needed. Something precious in me that she couldn't get anywhere else - - my blood."

"Fuck," Todd whispered, face going a little pale.

He looked up, meeting Curtis' eyes with a wide-eyed, spooked look. "The blood of the Book - - that's what he said - - the Danzig guy - - he said - - the blood of Book would bind the holy and the unholy - -?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to recall more, then shook his head, stuffing his hands between his knees and mumbling. "I sort of lost track of the rest of the stuff he said after that."

"That would explain - -" Hannah started, then trailed off, mouth tight thinking things she wasn't sharing.

"So wait a second. Back to you. How are you even here? Did the Book bring you back?" Todd asked. "Did you claw your way up out of your grave or something?"

Hannah swallowed, huddling back deeper into the chair.

"Hannah?" Curtis wanted to touch her so bad it hurt, but he was afraid that maybe if he did, he'd shatter the spell and she'd just be gone again.

"No. I'm not - -This body isn't the same one - - I think I'm a clone. I think I might have been a clone before - - but I don't know. Remember that room in the lab under the retirement home? All those tanks were cloning tanks. My - - my parents had been experimenting for years - I think. Trying to fuse cells from the book into a human host. I was the result. I think - -maybe when my first body - - died - - it triggered the activation of the next in line. But I didn't know who I was. I was just - - empty. Until last night."

She dropped her face into her hands, covering her eyes from their stares of incomprehension and horror. And it should have been the stuff of nightmares - - should have had him backing away in horror, because he did remember that lab, and those chambers, the few he'd looked into before they'd fled containing things that hadn't looked human. But although, Curtis didn't understand a fraction of what she was talking about - - he knew in his heart that it was _her_ saying it. This was Hannah. Somehow, some way, thanks to the fucked up, twisted plots of a bunch of geriatric Satanists, he'd gotten her back and for once, he was grateful for their schemes.

He dropped down to his knees next to her chair, trying to look up under her hair to see her eyes. "It'll be okay. You'll figure it out. You always do, and if it's bad shit you let us know and me and Todd will go kick its ass."

"Yeah," Todd agreed, more than likely not having understood much more of what she'd been trying to explain than Curtis. Kicking ass, he could comprehend, though.

She let out a little sob and flung her arms around him and it was the best feeling in the world, hugging her back.

Jenny decided Hannah and Curtis needed some alone time and hauled Todd outside.

"Do we really trust her?" He hadn't totally gotten all of Hannah's - - or Hannah 2.0's(?) - - halting explanation - - but the part about mixing cells from the Book in to make Hannah clones sounded really, really fucked up. Anything the Book touched inevitably turned to shit and he didn't want Curtis caught off his guard if Hannah suddenly vamped out on him.

Jenny waved a hand though, dismissing his fears. "When has the book ever been subtle about the trouble it causes? It doesn't wrap things up in pretty packages and try to slip them in under your guard, it smashes you upside the head with them. Just go with it, Todd."

"I wanna go with it, I really do, its just - - she has Book blood in her."

"And you're the Pure Evil One. We're not holding it against you."

He gave her a hurt look. "Can't we find another name for it - - me - - when we bring it up?"

She didn't have an answer for that right away, staring at him like he'd maybe caught her off her guard, then sliding a hand across his arm and smiling just a little, giving him a look from under her lashes. "Yeah, we need to come up with something a little less - - evil sounding. Because you're not."

Jenny's mood swings never failed to stump him. He stood there, trying to figure out if that had been a flirty touch, followed up by a flirty look or if he'd been imagining things. With Jenny it was hard to tell. Just when he thought he had her figured out she'd throw him for a loop.

She didn't follow it up with anything more interesting though, other than hopping up and sitting on the trunk of the car. He hopped up next to her, propping his feet on the bumper.

"Sooo - - were you worried about me?" He was trying really hard to be casual about it, when he still couldn't shake the little exuberant tremors over the fact that she'd broken the law to come find him.

She shrugged. "I worry about you all the time. You're like a magnet for trouble."

The grin spread across his face and he couldn't stop it. She cast him a narrow look and amended. "I told you it was no huge thing."

"It _was_ a huge thing. I'd have been screwed if you hadn't gone and got Curtis and come looking for me. So really, thank you."

She shrugged again, letting her hair fall to hide her face. He edged a little closer so that their thighs were touching and she didn't call him on it so he shut his eyes for a second, taking a breath and thinking - - _just go for it._ _The worst that can happen is she shoots me down_.

He leaned in and she looked up and her eyes were really blue and bright, and not even close to narrowing in suspicion. A split second of panic went though his head, wondering what he'd do if she actually let him kiss her - - he'd fuck it up for sure - - either too much tongue or not enough - -

Then her phone rang, blaring what he thought might have been the theme song for the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz.

Her eyes did get narrow and hard then, and the moment was completely shattered. She muttered a curse under her breath and hopped off the car, digging in her pocket for her cell.

He slumped over his knees, feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from under him, as she stalked down the driveway, talking in a strained hush to who he had to assume was her mom.

The hushed tone turned to straight out yelling and Todd figured he'd rather walk in on Hannah and Curtis maybe actually getting it on reunion style, than intrude on Jenny having a screaming match with her mom. So he retreated back inside. But Curtis hadn't gotten any further than he had, apparently. He was sitting where Jenny had been on the sofa table in front of Hannah, who was still in the chair. They were touching knees though, and he had one of her hands in his.

They both looked up at him when he shuffled in and he sort of shrugged awkwardly and flopped down on the sofa. "Jenny's on the phone with her mom."

"Todd, are you okay?" Hannah asked and he gave Curtis a look, figuring he'd told her in more detail what had happened.

"Sure." Other than the fact that he'd been blocked once again from actually making headway with Jenny and her mom was probably screaming at her now to go back to the city. He slouched a little deeper, stuffing his hands in his pockets miserably.

"This ritual they performed to bring the book back couldn't have been simple - - you said they needed the blood of the Book to bind the holy and the unholy - - that's curious, because I would think any holy ingredient would be anathema to the Book."

"I don't know what that means and I don't care. It's just back, and a good thing, too, right? Because so are you." That was shitty and he knew it was shitty the moment it left his mouth, but he was feeling pretty ticked off at the moment.

Hannah pressed back a little in the chair and Curtis gave him a furrow browed look. "Todd, Hannah's just trying to figure things out. And she really needs to get her hands on the notes and things in the lab under the retirement home."

"You mean Satan central?" Then he thought about the notion and it began to strike a chord. One way or another Satanists had fucked up his life and he was more than willing to bust in there and disrupt theirs. "Yeah. Let's do it. I'd like to see the old geezers try and stop us."

He shot up, figuring Jenny was bound to have something lying around the house that could do some damage. Nothing so awesome as a sword, probably, but a blunt object was a blunt object and he felt the need to have something in hand that he could smash shit up with, if he needed.

"Now?" Hannah asked in a small voice.

"Why not?" He yanked open a closet and found a dusty set of golf clubs. Pulled out a 9 iron and tested the weight in his hand. Not a sword for sure, but it was all metal and he'd bet money it packed a solid punch.


	8. Chapter 7

7

Atticus was hung over. The shot of whiskey in his tea had turned into half a bottle from his father's stash of aged, double malt scotch. He'd never broken into the stuff before, his father's stern voice a constant reminder that there were things and places in the Murphy family house that were strictly off limits to nosey, disappointing children. Atticus had been thirty-two the last time that particular warning, with those particular descriptive adjectives had been given and his father newly settled in the Crowley Heights retirement home. The following decade had not changed his father's view on the subject, nor Atticus' desire to somehow, though miracle or twist of fate or Satan forbid some triumph of his own, prove to his father that he was no disappointment at all, but a worthy successor to his father's legacy.

He never had managed to impress the old bastard. Even when he'd taken the initiative and killed him, the psoriasis ridden old fuck had still plagued him, a constant scornful voice from beyond the grave. Even when he'd been writhing in the depths of the hell beyond the pages of the Book, that cancerous voice in head had chided _'I told you so. You never could do anything right. This is only just dessert for your failure. The Book wouldn't even choose you over an obnoxious, teenage stoner_.'

It had been rather disappointing that the scotch hadn't helped block out the voice - - what was the point in getting drunk really, if it didn't dull the annoying presence inside his head? What it did do was make the voice a little more mellow, a little more understanding. _''It's not your fault, Atticus, you were led astray. _

"That's right, they lied to me, father. They used me. They played us all for fools."

The voice was conspicuously silent for a while after that, and the absence in his head was curiously disturbing. But then, his father never had been able to admit to fault. In anything. And if his father had been dealing with those three delinquents who'd convinced Atticus that _he_ was the prophesized one, and not Todd Smith - - well, he'd been taken in as well. Although what tempting promises they'd made to him, decades before, Atticus had no idea. Nor the deeper meaning of the all-important Prophesy that had driven his father for all those years. All Atticus knew were bits and pieces, that the Book would chose a Master and that that Master would be able to control its limitless power and bring a Satanic version of paradise to earth - - but there had to be more. Had to be something beyond that simple fairy tale, because if his father had had an inkling of what really resided beyond the earthly plane that the book seemed to be a gateway to, would he really have sought it out without some greater goal or gain in mind?

_There are some things that you don't need to know, fool_, the voice crept up again, whispering. _Things above your pay grade._

"I'm the Hooded Leader, father," Atticus replied testily. "I don't have a pay grade. Or," he added, rethinking. "If I do, its top tier pay, befitting a satanic leader."

_Leader of whom? You've either killed or lost your flock, idiot_. _Who's going to follow a failure like you?_ Scathing laughter followed that, and Atticus had thrown the empty glass against the wall. Disappointingly enough, it failed to shatter. So he sat there, scowling at nothing in particular on a couch with white lace armrests that his mother had crocheted twenty-five years before, trying to figure out a way around that disturbingly accurate question.

Who would follow him indeed? His only loyal minion was presently residing within the Book of Pure Evil. The rest of the fickle teenagers that Atticus had hoped would make up a revitalized satanic society had deserted him at the drop of a few words. And sure, there were plenty of closet Satanists scattered around town, but most of them were no more interested in seriously pursuing the dark paths than most people who professed to a belief in Christianity were in actually motivated enough to go out and make the effort to spread the word of their god. There were just too many everyday life things that took precedence.

There were always the old geezers at the retirement home, members all of the Satanic society. Granted he'd already skimmed the cream of the geriatric crop, and those that were left weren't much use, but, on the bright side, they didn't have much to do other than twiddle their thumbs waiting to die and they were lifelong followers of the dark path. Beggars could hardly be choosers.

And even though he'd been burned and burned badly by the Book, it was still a relic of immense power and there was bound to be some advantage he could gain from having it in his clutches. After all his father had lusted after it all those years and his father before him - - and neither one of them had had an inkling of when the Pure Evil One might appear, so possessing the book itself had to mean something. At the very least it would keep it out of the hands of his enemies - - Todd Smith. He glowered a little envisioning a satisfying revenge for his suffering. A clever man just might figure out how to use the book to his advantage from the mere possession of it.

"And a clever man is what I am," Atticus assured himself, head happily slurred from his father's very good single malt.

No voice in his head debated that claim, so he smiled, already making plans of recruiting a new batch of creeping grey haired minions bright and early tomorrow.

Then he passed out and dreamed of absolutely nothing.

Whatever Jenny had talked about with her mom, she wasn't sharing. Todd imagined the worst. Had visions of her going back to the city and never coming back, and he wasn't sure living without her was an option. This last month had sucked balls with her gone even when he'd thought she'd be back at the end of the summer. The alternative was more chilling than facing down bloodthirsty monsters or masochistic Satanists.

It put him in a particularly crappy mood. The sort of mood that generally boded ill for whatever happened to get in his way. He'd been sexually frustrated and rejected by Jenny a lot last year, so a lot of Book generated trouble had gotten an up close and personal experience with him when he'd been feeling particularly sulky.

"Dude, remember, we're not here to kick old people ass," Curtis reminded him after they'd piled out of Jenny's car and tromped across the yellowed grass out front the Crowley Heights retirement home. Curtis had Hannah's hand in his good one, and despite Todd's urging hadn't brought the shotgun.

"My Granny lives there," Curtis had said. "I'm not going in there with a gun."

"Your granny tried to eat us, last time we showed up," Todd grumbled, holding the 9 iron like a bat as they swung through the doors.

"He's got a point," Jenny said.

"Its highly unlikely that same phenomenon will happen again," Hannah pointed out and Curtis beamed at her, like every word out of her mouth was gospel.

Todd just narrowed his eyes, still not trusting her one hundred percent. Then he wrinkled his nose a little, because the smell was sort of terrible. Not as bad as the last time he'd been here - - God, nothing he ever smelled again would top the repulsiveness of that - - but like antiseptic and cleaning agents trying to mask the smell of old people and failing.

"Up there," Hannah pointed, eyes bright and little desperate, pulling Curtis along behind her. A few of the residents creaking along the hall paused to give them looks, but no one said anything or tried to stop four teenagers from marching down the hall with a purpose.

Back after Hannah had died - - well, sort of died - - Curtis had mentioned some lab under the home, but hadn't been feeling sharey enough to go into detail. And it hadn't really seemed to matter, what with the book gone, and Hannah gone and school wrapping up for the year on a majorly depressing note. Even if everything hadn't sort of gone to hell after Semi-formal, Todd doubted he'd have given much of a fuck about some dusty lab buried under the old folks home. The Book was magic not science and he doubted if the things he needed to know regarding it would be found in the lab of a pair of dead egg heads.

"This place creeps me out," Jenny confided, falling back to pace beside him.

"Yeah." That was an understatement.

The door Hannah was headed towards was open, and she and Curtis had barely gotten inside before they stopped dead. Todd came in on their heels and stopped flat himself, staring at maybe one of the last people he'd expected to see in the flesh, staring back at him from across a big round table with a wax pentagram melted into its surface.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Atticus?"

Atticus Murphy, looking very much human again, no goat horns, no cloven hooves, not even a hooded cape, just a dorky sweater vest, an unshaven chin under his mustache and slightly bloodshot eyes. He gaped back for a second, before he gathered his wits and sputtered in offended dignity.

"Me? What the fuck are _you_ doing here? I am the Hooded Leader. This is my sanctum. And the lot of you are trespassing. Go away!"

"You go away, " Todd stabbed the 9 iron towards him and Atticus flinched a little, circling the table to put more of it between him and them.

"You were trapped in the book. How did you get out?" Jenny demanded.

Curtis had an arm in front of Hannah, like she needed his protection from Atticus, who as far as Todd was concerned, sans Book, wasn't much of a threat at all, unless you counted being a dick a communicable disease.

"That is none of your concern," Atticus spared Jenny half a glare, before swinging his accusing stare on Todd. "All you need to know is that you're treading on the domain of the satanic society of Crowley Heights, a revered and feared orgni - -"

"What the fuck ever," Todd cut him off with a wave of the 9 iron. "And as far as Satanists go, you and your old geezers aren't dick squat compared to the new guys."

"New guys?" Atticus waved a hand, dismissing that as nonsense and sneered. "You think you're special because the Book chose you, Todd Smith - - well, where's the hellfire and the chaos and the eternal night you were supposed to bring us?"

"You can fuck off and the Book can fuck off. There's nothing special about getting chosen by it - -"

"And Todd chose not to bring down hell on earth," Curtis said. "Which is more than you would have done, you shit rooster."

Atticus opened his mouth, whatever he'd been about to say dried up - - face going pale under the stubble - - like something terrible had flashed across his mind.

"You," he stabbed a finger at Todd accusingly. "You don't know what the meaning of hell is - - but I do. You sent me there, you obnoxious little prick."

The haunted look in the depths of Atticus' eyes stopped Todd mid-retort. He'd been drawn into the depths of the Book too, but he'd been there as its master, not an inmate suffering in the claws of its fiery grasp. When he'd set the book to consume Atticus he'd been seduced by its power, by the lure of ultimate darkness and he hadn't cared who he was sentencing to what - - hell a few minutes more and he'd have sentenced the world to the same nightmare - - if not for Jenny breaking him out of the spell.

"You attacked us," Jenny stormed around the table, eyes flashing, getting right up in Atticus' face. "You forced it on him and you've got the nerve to complain that it didn't go down how you wanted? Well boo - fucking - hoo, asshole."

"Could we please do what we came here to do?" Hannah stopped them all with the plea. "I just want to go down to the lab and get the notes."

"Lab?" Atticus looked at her like she'd just asked when the Martians would be landing and should they dress for the occasion. "What lab?"

"You don't know?" Jenny arched a brow. "You are out of the loop, aren't you, Atticus?"

Hannah was heading back behind a shelf-lined partition sporting lots of candles and satanic knick-knacks. There was nothing but a wall back there with a bunch of hooks where robes were hung.

"There's nothing back there," Atticus said airily, trailing warily behind.

Hannah ignored him, reached up and twisted one of the hooks, and with a click, a panel behind the cloaks swung inward.

"Oh, well, except for that. I knew about that," Atticus assured them.

Todd cast a dubious glance his way, hefting the 9 iron and shifting past Jenny and Hannah to get up front with Curtis, just in case the dark they were walking down into contained more than dusty notes and spider webs.

The steps leading down were metal and there was a sort of acrid, rusty smell to the place. There was a dangly light switch that Curtis pulled when they reached the bottom and it dimly lit up a room cluttered with papers and tubes and sciencey stuff. Hannah went straight for the bench against the wall, where there were stacks of cassette tapes and notebooks.

Curtis nudged his arm and jerked his head towards a big metal door with a weird pentagram symbol stenciled on it.

"How long has this place been here?" Jenny edged past them into the room. Atticus crept down behind them, muttering to himself, like he was carrying on a one sided conversation.

"A long time," Hannah said, distracted by gathering tapes and journals, stuffing them into a backpack brought from Jenny's house. "Maybe before the retirement home."

"That's ridiculous. I would have known," Atticus said.

"I thought you knew it was here?"

Atticus threw Todd an unappreciative look and amended. "Do you take me for a fool? Of course I knew - - I just didn't know how long - - or - - what the hell is that?"

Curtis had triggered open the big door with the symbol and beyond it lay a long narrow chamber, lined with metal tanks that looked like something out of Aliens. There must have been a dozen of them, all hooked up to cables and tubes, some of them dark and dead, some glowing with an odd, creepy phosphorous light. Todd stepped out onto the metal grid walkway, staring into the glass plated observation port of the first chamber. He hissed in surprise at the pale, malformed thing floating inside.

"Holy shit," he whispered and Curtis nodded knowingly beside him.

"What the hell are they?"

"Clones," Hannah said in a tiny, strained voice. She was standing at the portal, staring with wide, horrified eyes at the row of tanks. "Test subjects they had fused with cells from the Book and were - - incubating - - hoping to create - - they're me - - my sisters - - my brothers - - " she choked, staring at the same malformed thing Todd had. There were others, all of them half made or twisted or just dead bloated things. Some of them - - the least terrible - - reminded him of Hannah.

He turned away from wide eyed stare of something dead that had Hannah's mouth and her eyes but lacked a nose, to look at the real girl, who was standing there, tears streaming down her face at her - - God, brothers and sisters. And it hit him suddenly, what they'd done to her, the cold-hearted bastards that she'd thought of as her parents.

It was a hideous place. A dungeon filled with things worse than any the Book had dredged up and plagued them with last year. He rotated a shoulder, hefted the 9 iron and slammed it with enough force to crack the glass plate over the incubation chamber. A second blow and the glass shattered, spilling fluid onto the floor. He didn't stop there and it felt good, letting the rage loose. After things spinning so badly out of his control lately, taking the initiative back and creating a little chaos all of his own accord was therapeutic.

There was the solid clang of impact behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Curtis gripping a pipe and following his lead. He grinned, and Curtis nodded back, grim and pissed, while Hannah and Jenny stood there, staring at their spree of destruction with wide eyes. Atticus was edging back up the stairs, going to do who knew what and Todd didn't care. Fucking this place up - - this terrible place where people without souls played with innocent lives to try and find a way to manipulate the Book - - was all that mattered.

The anger loomed, dark and giddy and there was the curious awareness of - - power - - not a vast, bottomless pit of it but more like a hundred tiny dust motes flickering in the lazy light of afternoon.

Something sparked down the aisle, a stray burst of electricity that sizzled in the leaking fluid, then popped exploding the door off one of the far chambers. It spread, traveling down the row in a chain reaction of destruction. He heard Curtis yelp behind him, and the girls screaming for them to get out. He stood there, club in hand, the sparks dancing in the air and felt the curl of power at the center of him, without even the Book to feed it. Only maybe there were traces of the Book here - - a dozen mutated, dead or dying things with whispers of the Book's essence inside them. The whole far end of the chamber went up with a deafening boom of explosion, metal and wire and fluid roaring outward. Sudden burning pain flared in his chest.

Todd dropped the 9-iron, staggering, the air sucked right out of him as something plunged what felt like a burning brand into the center of him. He almost went down, but for Curtis shoring him up from behind, dragging him backwards as the incubation chamber was tearing itself apart.

Jenny was screaming for Hannah to _'leave it. Take what you've got_,' pulling Hannah away from the bench and its stacks of books.

"We've got to get everybody upstairs out," Curtis was yelling. The girls ran up the stairs ahead, Hannah clutching the backpack and Todd doubted he could have made it himself without Curtis. The pain was this rhythmic, throbbing acid though his veins, and all of it centered around the place on his chest where they'd cut into him.

"Todd, are you okay?" Curtis shoved him back against the wall once they were upstairs and out into the hallway. There were staff and old people scrambling as fast as they could, responding to the girls screaming 'fire' and the monotonous blare of a fire alarm triggered by the smoke threading its way out into the hall from the room with the secret door.

He nodded shakily, the pain slowly receding, edging back to the point where he could breathe again. Curtis nodded back. "I gotta find my granny and help get everybody out."

Curtis took off, weaving through the chaos Todd had caused. The pain was still there, an echoing ache, but that wasn't the worst of it. He could feel tiny little pieces of the Book shriveling up and ceasing to be. Slivers of it dying. He shut his eyes, leaning hard against the wall as the floor tilted out from under him. He'd grasped after those itty bitty shreds of book power without even knowing he was doing it and the thing they'd sliced into his chest had reared up and slapped him down hard because of it. It was the only thing that made sense. The only explanation for the fact that he could feel it throbbing under his shirt, almost like it was laughing at him. He pressed a hand to his chest, expecting the cloth to be blood soaked, but it wasn't. There was just a raw feeling, a throbbing heat like his skin was swelling from multiple bee stings.

The floor shook and this time, it wasn't just in his head. A cloud of smoke that smelled like electrical fire wafted out from the doorway, and he pushed himself off the wall, stumbling through the now hazy aired hall. People were still scrambling - - well as fast as old people could scramble - - but they were pretty motivated and the staff was doing a good job of evacuating the place.

He made his way outside as the last of the residents were being pushed out in a wheelchairs and scanned the crowd gathered at the edge of the parking lot for his friends. He could hear the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. Curtis was standing next to his granny, patting her arm, assuring her things that Todd couldn't hear through the ringing in his ears. Jenny was pacing, staring towards the building, Hannah a little off to the side clutching the backpack of rescued notes.

Atticus stood a little apart from the crowd of gawking seniors, staring at the smoke beginning to seep out from the windows.

"Todd," Jenny waved him over, but he needed a little distance - -just a little breathing room, and moved to sit on the curb further down.

"Are you okay?" Jenny was blocking out the sunlight in front of him, hands on her hips. Hannah trailed her, and Curtis left his Granny to join them, sitting down next to Todd on the curb.

"Holy shit, man. We burned the place down," he whispered.

Not we, he thought. Me.

"Did you get hit by something when it went up?" Curtis asked. "It looked like you did - -?"

That was a good excuse. He ought to use that excuse so they wouldn't know what had really happened. But the part of him that wanted to hide it was also the part of him that was weakest when it came to dealing with the power the Book offered. He needed them to know when he was wavering, so they could smack sense into him when he was feeling short on it.

"It was me - - I think I set off the explosions."

"What? How?" Jenny sat down on his other side and Hannah settled next to Curtis. The first of the police cars had arrived, and there was a fire engine not far behind. A window broke down towards the end of the building and flames rippled out.

"I dunno. I got really angry and I felt it - - little pieces of the Book - -" He felt a little numb no w, but before - - before he had been anything but - that feeling of power rushing in like smoke filling his lungs, only the high hadn't been euphoric, it had been dark and destructive.

"Oh, God," Hannah whispered. "The clones - - the Book cells they'd fused with the clones. They responded to you."

He looked across Curtis at her, miserably. "Yeah - - maybe. I didn't mean to - -"

"That place needed to be destroyed," Jenny said with conviction. She leaned in, pressing her arm up against his. "And so you lost it a little and lit the place up - - but you didn't go Pure Evil and that's what matters."

"Yeah - - maybe, but - - I don't know if I stopped myself or something stopped me." He rubbed his chest and felt the faintly raised edges of welts. "When I first started really feeling the power, the place those heavy metal Satanist douches cut me just sort of got crazy painful. That's what hit me, dude."

He gave Curtis a sort of shamefaced wince. Curtis just draped an arm across his shoulder and squeezed.

"Let me see," Jenny demanded.

And since he sort of wanted to see for himself if the thing had come back, he lifted his shirt. And it was sort of there, in the center of his chest, a faintly pink, faintly raised mark in the shape of the occult symbol he'd had carved into his flesh.

"Fucking assholes - -" Curtis growled, lifting his good hand to touch it, even as Jenny was doing the same from the other side. Todd wasn't particularly squeamish about personal boundaries, but this thing he was marked with was freaking him out.

"Oh - - my," Hannah was saying, wide eyed and thankfully not making a go for him the way Curtis and Jenny were. "We need a picture of that, before it fades." Okay, that was worse than trying to touch the thing.

"Really?" Todd complained as Jenny was digging out her phone and edging around in front of him to snap a shot of it.

"I don't recognize that symbol - - we need to find out what it means."

"It means the new Satanists in town are sick fucks," Jenny said.

He let his shirt drop and sat there, staring at the firemen rushing around, dragging hoses off their trucks. The old folks were just sort of mulling in exhaustion, sitting in their wheel chairs or the benches in the shade of trees beyond the parking lot. Even if they were all Satanists, he felt sort of bad for them, burned out of their home. He hadn't meant for that to happen. Shit just seemed to go to hell, when he got anywhere near it.

Atticus edged away, melting into a group of seniors and away from the four teenagers sprawled on the curb, watching the retirement home burn like everyone else. He half considered finding a policeman and reporting that the arsonist was sitting right there, watching the fire, but the Crowley Heights sheriff's department were notoriously lax in doing their jobs and as satisfying as having Todd thrown into jail on arson charges might be, it would involve Atticus himself having to give a statement and explaining what business he'd had in the retirement home, months after his father had ceased to exist there. Inconveniencing himself wasn't quite worth giving Todd a little well-earned grief.

Besides, there was something new and curious to spark his interest. He'd only been half paying attention when they'd mentioned 'new Satanists' before, but the conversation he'd just eavesdropped on was very, very interesting.

If there was a new sect of the satanic society in Crowley Heights, no one had cleared it with him. Granted, he had been immersed in a fiery hell for the last month, but the Murphy men had ruled this town and all its satanic dealings for the eighty years and it was just poor manners for some new group to move in and think they could have the run of the town without his approval. In fact, a new sect might be just what he needed, fresh blood and from what he'd overheard from the kids, a highly enthusiastic bunch to boot.

A pair of old biddies that had been in tight with his father were sitting on a bench, watching the firemen fighting their losing battle. If anyone was up on their gossip, it would be this pair of grey haired old bats.

"Mildred. Betty. What's this rumor I'm hearing about out of town Satanists in Crowley Heights?"

They both looked up at him with small, rheumy eyes. They'd managed to save their knitting needles and a basket of yarn and they were busy making what looked like a set of denture cozies.

"We thought you were dead, Jr."

He scowled, standing straighter. "That's Your Evilness, to you, gray hairs."

The one waved a needle at him in a motion that looked suspiciously like dismissal. "Oh, its no rumor. A few of them stopped by a few weeks back, didn't they Betty?"

"Oh, gracious yes. And that one - - now that was a man. A real man. I don't think I've ever seen such muscles outside of a magazine - -"

The other one cackled. "If I was twenty years younger, I'd have let him bend me over and - -"

"Don't - -" Atticus slashed an urgent hand and snapped. "Finish that sentence."

His mind was already trying to shrink up and hide from the images she'd brought to mind. Twenty years his ass, more like forty if she wanted to offer anything not dried up and shriveled beyond recognition.

"Just - - tell me who they are and where I can find them."

They sat on the curb and watched the fire for another hour - - because, well, it was a fire and despite having started a few minor ones in barrels or with the injudicious use of fireworks - - Curtis and Todd had never been this up close and personal to a real, raging fire. It was pretty awesome. And Todd, who had the curse, or the blessing, depending on how you looked at it, of a lamentably short attention span, shuffled aside the depressing thoughts of outbreaks of Pure Evil and Jenny's possible deportation back to the city in favor of ogling the pretty flames.

Both he and Curtis lamented the lack of a joint with which to get just a little baked, because _'how wicked would it be to watch this show if we were stoned?'_

_'Pretty fucking wicked.'_

They were both agreed on that. Jenny seemed to think they were idiots and rolled her eyes repeatedly and wasn't shy saying it, while they were debating the merits of the mind broadening effects of weed.

Hannah didn't have an opinion one way or another, too wrapped up on flipping through the notebooks that she'd saved, to pay them or the fire much attention.

After about an hour in Jenny started to complain that her butt was sore from sitting on the concrete and that the smoke was burning her eyes and that she was hungry and if they didn't finish jerking off to the burning building soon, they could all walk home because she was leaving without them. As much as he loved Jenny, she could be a sort of a bitch when she put her mind to it. She was lucky she was so hot.

Most of the residents had already been picked up either by the family that had deposited them in the home in the first place, or taken to nearby hospitals or other facilities, so it was just firemen and police and the local news station covering the story, by the time they left. He'd sort of forgotten about Atticus, but he was long gone, too.

They stopped for fast food on the way back to Jenny's, which was about all Todd could afford with exactly four dollars left in his pocket. Which was four dollars more than Hannah, and Curtis wasn't rolling in it, but Jenny pulled out a credit card and slid it across the counter under the wide-eyed gazes and him and Curtis.

"You've got plastic?" Todd asked almost accusingly. It was an amazing and envious thing to possess, though he doubted most of the guys he bought his weed off of accepted anything but cash.

Jenny shrugged a little evasively, slipping the card into her back pocket once she'd gotten it back.

"Did you steal that from your mom, too?"

She gave him a glare for that accusation, then rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. "What if I did? I guess I'm like a trust fund kid now. She's supposed to stipend it out for food, board, whatever - - so I'm due."

"Whatever you say," he got the food-laden tray and followed her to the table Curtis and Hannah had claimed. "If the cops come and take you away to prison - - I'll wait for you."

"Shut up," she muttered, but she gave him a sort of quick, curious look from under her lashes, before she scooted onto the bench across from Hannah and Curtis. Hannah was still reading one of the notebooks, trying to explain something to Curtis who had a sort of glazed expression in his eyes.

"You'll make him blow a circuit," Jenny predicted.

Hannah looked up, eyes unfocusing from the book and focusing in on Curtis. It took a second for her to realize that she'd lost him probably from sentence one, and she blew out a little resigned breath.

"Anything interesting?" Jenny asked. "The cliff notes version?"

"They were meticulous in their note keeping," Hannah said a little wistfully. "There's a lot of pure science here - - a lot of pure engineering - - which would be very helpful if I were going to recreate a cloning incubation chamber - -"

"You probably ought not do that," Todd suggested, dredging a fry in Ketchup.

"Yeah, unless you made like those two headed dog things - - " Curtis suggested. "Because that would be awesome."

"Fuck yeah, " Todd chimed in, vaguely recalling the picture he and Curtis had seen on some website that specialized in the weird and grotesque. "And it would like have two names - "

"- - and two asses."

"No. Just the one ass. You'd need two collars, though. Spiked collars."

"That's not the same sort of cloning," Hannah sighed, propping her chin on her palm.

"And its just wrong," Jenny added.

Hannah closed the book she'd been looking at and sipped at her coke. "I wish I could have saved more. I'll need a cassette deck to listen to the taped notes."

"I've got one at home you can use. My dad's."

"Where are you gonna stay, sweetie? Since your aunt moved away and all?" Curtis asked.

Hannah looked up, uncertain.

"She can stay with me," Jenny said. "A better question is, how are we going to explain how she's back from the dead?"

"Yeah, that is a pretty good question." Todd seconded.

"Well, this is Crowley heights," Curtis shrugged, taking a huge bite out of his triple-decker cheeseburger. "People generally don't pay a whole lot of attention to the weird and the weirder. If she just shows back up once school starts, chances are nobody'll call her on it."

Curtis had a pretty good point there. Enough crazy shit happened and people tended - - as long as it wasn't happening to them - - to get numb to it.


	9. Chapter 8

8

Mildred and Betty had directed Atticus to a house on Beacon Street, a rental property that sat far back from the road, beyond an acre or two of weed obscured, untended lot. An old house with peeling white paint and a dilapidated wrap around porch.

There were a couple of cars parked out front when he drove up late Sunday afternoon. He debated on wearing a robe, but his best one had disappeared somewhere between the debacle at the school semi-formal and his return, and the majority of the others had burned with the retirement home, which left him with a few worn old ones of his father's that were still at the house. But though they reeked of mothballs, it still hadn't prevented bugs from chewing holes in the cloth, and showing up in moth eaten robes of office would hardly boost his status of Hooded Leader.

He decided that one of his father's heavy goat skull inside a pentagram rings and a no nonsense, confident attitude would have to do. He straightened his tie, adjusted his sweater vest and rang the doorbell. He wasn't entirely sure it worked, when after a few minutes or more standing in front of the scuffed, peeling front door no one bothered to answer his summons.

He knocked, then he banged a fist and finally after several more minutes, a young man with short, spiky blonde hair, wearing a dirty white t-shirt answered, staring at him the sort of sullen ill-humor of someone interrupted from an important activity by a someone else attempting to peddle insurance.

"So sorry, did I interrupt you?" Atticus asked with as much scorn as he could dredge up. Which was a fair bit.

"What do you want?"

Atticus stood a little taller, trying to put on that mantel of mental authority that his father had worn so well. He'd never quite gotten the hang of silencing a room with a mere look down pat.

"I'm the Hooded Leader of the Satanic Society of Crowley Heights. I'll speak with whoever is in charge, now."

The kid, who was maybe nineteen, lifted a brow and let out a snort very much lacking in the respect that Atticus' announcement deserved. He yelled over his shoulder into the depths of the house.

"Drax - - some dude's here to see you."

"The Hooded Leader," Atticus corrected tightly, but the kid ignored him, leaning a heavily tattooed shoulder against the doorframe.

A man appeared eventually, out of the dimness of one of the inner rooms, past cardboard boxes stacked in the hall. And all Atticus' planned bravado in the face of this new cult treading on his territory began packing its bags and planning a trip out of state. The man was huge, like some over developed poster boy for Muscle Milk aimed at aspiring bodybuilding hooligans. Like the kid at the door, his exposed flesh was covered in tattoos, but there was a lot more exposed flesh. He was bare chested, clad in tight jeans, with long brown hair streaked with just the barest hint of grey at the temples. He looked like he could crush a bowling ball between his hands.

He strode up, right into Atticus' personal space, and Atticus found himself staring at the decimated scull of some cloven beast tattooed between bulging pectorals. He swallowed and dragged his eyes up to meet a hard, impatient gaze.

"Well - - ah - - welcome to the neighborhood. Are you here visiting or planning to stay?" was the first thing out of his mouth and he regretted it instantly, but gathered courage and soldiered on regardless. "I'm Atticus Murphy, Hooded Leader of the Crowley Heights sect of the Dark Following."

The big man gave him a dubious once over, then shrugged, which made no few muscles ripple. "Are you now? I am Draxal Gottslayer. We're here because the Pure Evil One is here. We'll stay as long as we like.

"ahh - - the Pure Evil One - - well, I can assure you I have that situation well in hand - -"

"Who are you again?"

Atticus smiled tightly. "Atticus Murphy. The Hooded Leader of this town's satanic sect?"

"You mean the old geezers in the nursing home?"

"No. All the Satanic activity in this town is under my authority." Just a trace of a whine crept into his voice. His neck was getting a crick from having to look up.

"That so?"

"It is so. And I don't appreciate a new sect coming into my territory and doing things without my approval. At the very least a heads up would have been nice - - a nice fruit basket."

This Draxal Gottslayer lifted a dark brow. "Your authority? Aren't you the one that fucked up to begin with? Weren't you and your Society supposed to be watching over the Book of Pure Evil, guiding the prophesy and the coming of the Pure Evil One - - and then I hear two thousand years of waiting and preparing is gone to fuck because you let the Pure Evil One deviate from his destiny? That authority?"

"To be clear," Atticus had the strongest urge to back away from the darkening glower being directed at him. "That was a very confusing night. And you can't hold the Book's poor judgment in choosing master's against me. I was given faulty information."

Gottslayer laughed in his face, then shook his head and stepped aside, waving an arm towards the interior of the house. "Faulty information. Well, that explains the whole clusterfuck don't it? Come on in."

Honestly Atticus would have rather not, but if he were to assert any authority whatsoever over this situation, he needed to buck up and show no fear in the face of this muscle bound behemoth.

"So, I'm to understand you had a run in with the Pure Evil One?"

"Yeah, we had a little get together with the kid."

The boy trailing behind them snickered. Gottslayer led him to a big room overlooking a backyard more overgrown than the front. There was an old TV and a few couches, where four other youthful, tattooed, menacing looking men were sprawled, watching what sounded like, from the screams, some teenaged slasher movie. There was an odd apparatus made of leather and chains hanging from a hook in the ceiling behind the couch, and a box near by overflowing with what looked at hasty glance, with various bondage paraphernalia.

They really did look more like bikers with a taste for S&M gone bad rather than Satanists.

"We corrected your mistake and we got the Book back."

Atticus tore his gaze away from the suspicious box and lifted both brows, feeling very much out of the loop. There was a great deal he was still in the dark about, having spent a fiery siesta inside the pages of the book for the last six weeks. "And where was the 'back' you got the Book from?"

"That's right. The kid sucked you right up into it, didn't he? Fucked you up big time and then he sent it away. A mutually interested party came to me to clean up your mess. He kicked your ass. But then you and yours couldn't fight your way out of a plastic bag if somebody was suffocating you with it."

That was a disturbing analogy. Atticus flinched when the blonde kid leaned in over his shoulder and sneered. "He wasn't so tough. We staked the little prick down and cut him up and he bled and he screamed - -"

Atticus carefully extricated himself from the blonde kid's hovering presence and said with offended dignity. "I'll have you know that this society is one of the oldest and the most respected - - we're in all the periodicals - - "

"That's your problem, man," Gottslayer loomed up in his face. "The old ways had us waiting in the shadows for millennia in the hopes that our devotion would one day pay off. Fuck the old ways. The new way ought to be proactive."

"I _was_ being proactive," Atticus ground out. "I had the book in my hands. I had hostages. _I_ was supposed to be the Pure Evil One, not Todd Smith - - I would have fulfilled the prophesy - - whatever exactly the prophesy is - - it's not my fault the Book chose him."

Gottslayer crossed his impressive arms, eyeing Atticus speculatively. "Tell you what, Atticus. Lammas Day is coming up and we're gonna have a little Sabbat Festival. Nothing special, just a little fun, a little blood sacrifice to offer up - -why don't you join us. See how the new blood operates."

"Should I bring the goat?"

Gottslayer smiled and it wasn't a nice smile. "Naw, we got it covered."

Hannah had still been listening to her parent's tapes when Jenny crashed. She'd taken the guys home a few hours earlier. It had been a long, long day and they'd all been exhausted, despite claims to the contrary. Between driving back to Crowley Heights from the city, tracking down Todd, finding out the Book was back, Hannah returning from the dead, and burning down the retirement home - - it had been a pretty traumatic weekend. She felt as if she could have slept for days.

But her internal clock was a cruel taskmistress and exhaustion or no, she found herself blinking awake at quarter after eight to the aromatic scent of fresh coffee. She ran a hand through her hair, letting the sleep fade away, then shoved aside the sheet that she'd manage to twist about her during the night, and padded into the kitchen to see what was brewing.

Hannah was up, in one of Jenny's old oversized sleeping t-shirts, sitting at the kitchen table with Jenny's laptop on one side the cassette deck on the other, making notes of her own in a fresh notebook while she sipped coffee and flipped through the pages of one of the journals from the lab.

"Oh, I didn't wake you, did I?" she looked up, pen poised, a worried furrow between her brows. "I found the coffee and put on a pot. I hope you don't mind?"

Jenny went for the pot. She'd been consuming caffeine in mass since she was twelve. Her mom hadn't cared and her father had always been too preoccupied to notice. "After the day I had yesterday - - it's a Godsend."

She took a long sip and shut her eyes as the caffeine hit her system.

Hannah smiled a little hesitantly, tapping her chin with the blunt end of the pen. Her hair was damp from a shower she'd probably taken while Jenny was still in the throes of REM sleep. "I would have fixed breakfast - - but you don't seem to have a lot of edible food in the house. You may be on the verge of discovering a new form of fungi in the refrigerator, though."

"Yeah," Jenny sighed. "After mom left, I ate out a lot. Between school and the Book there wasn't a lot of time for grocery shopping or cooking."

"Do you cook?"

"Ehh." She waffled a hand. "A little. When my dad was home, I'd cook. Mom was out of town most of the time on business or screwing around and he'd forget to eat sometimes if I didn't remind him. You?"

Hannah hunched her shoulders a little, shrugging. "If there's a recipe I can follow it. My aunt used to do all the cooking though. Well, the woman I assume was my aunt."

"I'm so sorry, Hannah. I mean, God, I thought I had it bad with a mom who couldn't have given less of a damn and a dad more interested in the Book than me - - but at least I knew they were my parents. You - -"

She didn't know how to finish that thought. Hannah managed half a smile and took her off the hook. "I don't know about aunt Gladys, but I think my parents _were_ my parents. But they weren't - - weren't very nice people. I know sometimes boundaries have to be stretched to make advancements in science - - I believe there are lines that some people find morally objectionably that have to be crossed or progress can't be achieved- - but there are things in these notes - -"

She shook her head, trailing off.

"Do we want to wait for Todd and Curtis so you only have to explain this once?" Jenny ventured.

"I think if Todd and Curtis are here, I'll be explaining it a lot more than once." Hannah smiled and this time it was genuine.

"True dat," Jenny grinned back at her. "But let's wait for the idiots anyway."

It was Monday morning though, and Curtis had summer school and she thought Todd had a summer job that he worked four mornings a week and honestly it was too early to listen to Hannah expound in detail the inner workings of the minds of a couple of twisted satanic science nerds. Todd and Curtis weren't the only ones that got lost sometimes when Hannah was on a roll.

"So, let's go shopping," she suggested instead.

Hannah blinked up at her. "Shopping?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm willing to loan you some clothes, but let's be honest, my taste and yours aren't exactly in sync and that 80's ensemble you had on yesterday just hurts my eyes. So let's go the mall."

"I don't have any money, Jenny."

"I've got a credit card and it looks like you do most of your shopping at JC Penny's - - no offense - - so I can sport you a few outfits."

"Why would I take offense? Penny's has reasonable, affordable clothing."

"Right. So lets go to the mall. It'll be a girl's day."

It _would_ have been a girl's day, if her doorbell hadn't started ringing practically before the sentence had left her mouth. She exchanged a look with Hannah, before shrugging and going to answer it.

"Aren't you two supposed to be at work and school?" she complained.

"School schmool," Curtis waved a dismissive metal hand, edging past her, obviously looking for Hannah.

Todd just stood in the doorway, staring with a gigantic lack of tact at her sleeping attire, which consisted of a pair of silk Victoria's Secret boxers and a thin tank top. Her nipples, sans bra, were behaving badly this morning and his eyes were glued to her chest.

She crossed her arms and gave him a dry look. "Could you possibly look me in the eye?"

It took him a moment to drag his gaze upwards. She arched a brow and gave him a tight smile. "Good morning."

"Uh, yeah. Hey, Jenny." She moved aside and let him in, looking past him before she closed the front door at their bikes lying on her overgrown front lawn. She imagined, if she uncrossed her arms and asked, she could get him to cut it for her.

"So why aren't you at work?"

"I called in sick. Which is sort of true. I'm still kind of sore." He did still have a few fading bruises, but he looked as if a night's sleep in his own bed had done wonders. He trailed her into the kitchen, where Curtis had scooted a chair next to Hannah's and was looking at her like he was trying to reaffirm that her coming back hadn't just been a pot induced dream he'd had over the weekend.

"Can you afford to miss summer school?" Jenny hit Curtis with the responsibility question since Todd had shrugged it off.

Hannah latched onto that like a dog with a bone. "Oh, you really shouldn't skip school. I don't want you to be held back next year."

Curtis shrugged. "So you'll help me catch up, right? Its not like I'd be able to concentrate anyways - - so I might as well be here."

"Curtis, that's why you had to take Summer School to begin with."

"It was because of all the monsters," Todd piped up.

"Yeah, monsters are distracting," Curtis gave him an appreciative nod, thankful for the assist.

"It was because of you two being stoned all the time," Jenny corrected. "How Todd managed to avoid Summer school is beyond me."

"The teachers were scared to fail him, after he went all Pure Evil at the dance" Curtis grinned. "You were completely failing, weren't you, dude?"

Todd leaned against the refrigerator and sniffed. "That's not exactly true - - I was sort of passing - -" He trailed off, trying to come up with that fictional passing course and coming up with, "P.E."

Jenny smirked and waved a hand. "There you go. The wonders of the educational system where fear and intimidation dole out diplomas."

"Hey, I didn't intimidate or fear anybody - -on purpose."

"Curtis, you need to graduate. You too, Todd," Hannah said with conviction. "I'll be happy to tutor you - - both of you - - next year, but you've got to make it to senior year for me to do it."

Curtis sighed, beaten down by Hannah's big eyes and her look of determined desperation. "Yeah, okay. Tomorrow. I promise I won't skip tomorrow."

"It wouldn't entirely hurt to check and see if the Book has shown back up at school, though," Jenny suggested. "If it's gonna pop up anywhere, it'll be there."

"Yeah, probably," Todd agreed, but he didn't sound particularly enthusiastic about it, looking down and scuffing the toe of one black converse on the tile.

She supposed he had good reason to be a little less than hyped about Book stuff at the moment. Getting kidnapped by crazy cultists trying and succeeding to bring it back was bad enough, but finding out that all it took was a little loss of control and some itty bitty fragments of the book close at hand for him to go just a little Pure Evil - and they really did need to come up with a less traumatic term because there was a big difference between somebody willing to destroy the world as they knew it and Todd, who'd gone out of his way to avoid it. Top that off with the knowledge that those same crazy cultists had done something to him that interacted badly when he was channeling the power of the Book and she didn't blame him for looking like she'd just suggested they go sit through a twelve hour foreign film festival.

"Did you find out anything about that mark on Todd's chest?" she asked.

"I couldn't find anything online last night," Hannah said, casting Todd an apologetic look. "But I only searched a little while. Sorry, I got distracted by all this - -" she waved a hand at the scattered journals.

Todd shrugged. "S'okay. I sorta got the gist of what it does."

"Has it faded again?' Hannah asked.

He nodded.

"I keep thinking about what you said about mixing the unholy with the holy - - Those ingredients and that ritual - - and what happened to you yesterday when you channeled some of its power - - it seems that maybe they were trying to do more than just release the book, they were trying to impede your access to it."

"Why would they do that?" Curtis asked. "I thought they were all about the Pure Evil One cutting loose and destroying the world?"

"But he didn't do that?" Jenny said. "In fact he did exactly the opposite."

"Which is maybe why they've decided Todd can't be trusted with the power the Book offers. If he's not going to advance their cause - -"

"Yeah, this is shit loads of fun to discuss, but can we maybe change the subject and talk about - - I dunno - - _anything_ else?" Todd cut off their speculation sullenly. But there was a little bit of desperation underneath, a little bit of fear and she had the strongest urge to edge over and press up against him.

Curtis had just gotten himself in over his head by asking Hannah if she'd found out anything interesting from her parent's journals and Hannah was telling him and all Jenny could think about was how Todd's skin would feel. And that if she ran her fingers up under the hem of his shirt he'd be hard and lean - - and God, but it had been a really long time since she'd had anything but a vibrator - -

"Crap - -" she let out a gust of air and they all looked at her, Hannah faltering mid-sentence. Todd just looking at her curiously while the fog was slowly clearing from Curtis' eyes.

"I gotta go take a shower." A cold one. She turned on her heel and fled.

"What's a Demonicon?" That was one of the few words that actually registered, out of the hundreds - - the thousands of incomprehensible words that Hannah was spewing. Oh, Curtis knew the words as individuals - - eighty percent of the words, at any rate - - it was just how she was putting them together that had his brain starting to liquefy. But the sound of her voice was so wonderful and for a while there he'd thought he'd never hear it again, that he'd slice off his other hand before he told her to cut it short and give him the condensed, dummed down version. Unfortunately when it came to genetic manipulation, cellular fusion and the basics of supernaturally enhanced cloning - - well, even the cloning for dummies version would have been so far over his head, it would have been a pin point in the sky.

"Is that like a convention for demons?" Todd offered, sprawled in the chair across from the couch, one leg swinging off the arm while Curtis and Hannah sat on the couch, waiting for Jenny to finish getting dressed.

"That would be cool," Curtis narrowed his eyes, envisioning it. The local Holiday Inn convention center filled with horned, tailed demonic conventioneers up from the underworld. "I can see them wearing name tags and holding panels."

"Not '_a'_ Demonicon. _The_ Demonicon," Hannah corrected. "And I don't know. There was just a mention in the end of one of the journals about possible research into it and a connection with the Book. The journal that was supposed to come after is missing. Burned up, I suppose."

"It's okay, sweetie," Curtis patted her knee. She had on a pair of Jenny's black tights and one of Jenny's black jean skirts over them, and big black sweater over that. She was adorable in angry Goth girl attire. "Too much information makes the brain rot. And I don't care how you're back or why, as long as you're here."

Todd nodded in agreement, his staunchest ally. Hannah gave them both looks and smiled with strained patience. "You can never have too much information. And I care," she added in a small undertone.

Jenny finally finished dressing, having chosen the same color palette that she'd loaned Hannah, a pair of tight black jeans under a skin tight black Bauhaus T-shirt. Which meant Curtis was the only one of the three of them sporting any color, with his blue baby T with its big-eyed baby walrus.

Despite Todd being less than enthused about checking out the school for sign of the Book, Jenny being the chauffeur, had the last word and drove them there anyway. Curtis just hoped none of his teachers saw him and called him on not being in class.

"Its not the same without Jimmy being here," Todd complained as they trailed the girls into the school.

"Yeah," Curtis lamented. "It means we're gonna have to _buy_ all our weed without him to bum offa."

Todd stuffed fingers in his pockets, shrugging. "Yeah, that too. You don't have any, do you?"

Curtis cast him a grin and fished a plastic baggie with one fat little joint inside, out of his side pocket. Todd's eyes lit up, a slow smile chasing away the sullen pout he'd been wearing since they'd gotten to school.

"Dude, you're like, my hero."

Curtis kept grinning, figuring if anybody needed to get baked right about now, it was Todd and it had been a really long time since they'd gotten baked together. His own stupid fault. Half the summer just wasted because he was an idiot. He really should have known something was up with Randy Savage taking such an interest in him. He should have figured it out when the guy kept asking subtle questions about Todd when Curtis was too stoned to keep his mouth shut.

He bumped Todd with his shoulder and said earnestly. "I'm sorry about Randy. I shoulda known."

Todd shrugged. "It's okay, man."

"No, its not. You figured out he was an asshole first time you met him."

"Yeah, well, he called me a punk. And it looked like he used hair gel and you've just gotta figure - - I'm cool, Curtis. But, if I see him again, I'm gonna kick his ass - -"

"Yeah, dude, I'm right there with you."

They shuffled along after the girls down the darkened hall towards the gym, secure in their masculinity, until a figure stepped out of a dark doorway right in their path, bearing what looked to be a weapon. The both of them let out embarrassing little yelps, taking a few hasty steps backwards, before they recognized the weapon as a mop and the dark figure as the replacement janitor. The old guy stared at them with wary resignation.

"Don't you kids be scuffing my floors," the old guy warned. "I just waxed down here."

Curtis exchanged a look with Todd, the same thought flitting through their heads, that if anybody would know if strange goings on had started happening in the school, it would be the janitor. Jimmy had always known everything.

"Sooo," Todd straightened his shoulders, pretending he hadn't just squealed like a little girl, and asked. "You're the replacement Janitor?"

The old man looked down at the mop in his hand then back up at Todd, with deadpan disinterest, not bothering to answer the obvious.

"You know the guy before you was the best in the business."

"Boy, I mop floors. I ain't looking for trophies in it." The old man made to push the mop bucket past them.

"Wait," Todd stepped in his path. "We were just wondering, if anything weird happened over the weekend?"

The old man narrowed one eye, giving Todd a skeptical look. Curtis rushed in to clarify.

"He means, any unexplained blood or body parts lying around. Inanimate objects coming to life and trying to rip people's heads off - - gross things oozing up out of the grates trying to devour people - - that sort of weird?"

The old man's mouth gaped open. "Are the two of you high?"

Todd sniffed gloomily. "No."

"Hey, do you - -" Curtis pantomimed taking a hit off a joint and the old man drew himself up indignantly. Before he could respond Jenny inserted herself between them, grabbing Todd and Curtis' arms and pulling them backwards towards Hannah who was a few paces down the hall.

"You know these special ed students," she cast a smile back at the frowning old janitor. "Always getting away from you."

"Would the two of you stop trying to score weed and focus?"

"We weren't trying to score," Todd said with just a little bit of offense. "It's not like he's Jimmy."

"We were seeing if he'd seen anything Book related," Curtis explained, because Hannah had a furrow between her brows and was frowning at them, too. "Janitor's know everything that goes on around places like this."

"That's a good point," Hannah conceded.

"Well, did he know anything?" Jenny huffed, not letting go of her impatience so easily.

"No," Todd admitted. "So maybe it hasn't shown back up here yet."

"With just summer school in session, its just a fraction of the student population," Hannah pointed out. "With so many kids out of school, it's got the whole town to haunt."

"I wonder why we never heard of weird stuff happening outside the school before?" Jenny asked. "Its not like there aren't plenty of fucked up people that aren't teenaged out there. This town is crawling with them."

"Well, teenaged angst does tend to be a bit more dramatic than everyday adult problems." Hannah speculated. "And there's Todd. I think it's likely that the Book is drawn to him, so it was staying relatively close."

"Well, that's fucking great," Todd groused. "So it's my fault all the shit that happened last year?"

Jenny shrugged, not entirely dismissing that assessment. She always had been the quickest of the lot of them to think the worst about Todd and his connection to the book. It was like she had no idea how easy she could hurt him with the casual little cruelties that slipped past her lips. Curtis gave her a narrow eyed look before squeezing Todd's shoulder.

"How is it your fault the Book has a thing for you? How many people are alive because of you? A lot more than the Book killed."

"That's true," Hannah seconded. "None of this is your fault. Things have been in motion for a very long time - - this whole thing, this prophesy - - these people that have been pursuing the Book for centuries - - if you think about it, this thing is so huge - - world shaking huge - - Da Vinci code conspiracy huge - - and we're all just the tiniest gears caught up in the whole ponderous machine. And with the exception of Todd, any actions we make probably won't make that much difference in the whole scheme of things - -"

Jenny and Todd were staring at her with wide, appalled eyes.

"Sweetie, you're not helping all that much," Curtis pointed out as kindly as he could, when he was feeling overwhelmed by all those ominous statements, too.

"Oh. Sorry."

"There's nothing happening here," Jenny cast a glance at Todd, lashes half-mast, like maybe it had finally gotten though he was holding on to guilts that just weren't his to shoulder and maybe she should show a little sympathy. "So let's go to the mall. Lunch is on me."

They almost made it off of school grounds Scott free, but for the black Camero that burned rubber screeching to a stop in front of them before they'd made it half way across the parking lot to Jenny's car.

Randy Savage got out and stalked around the front end to stab a finger at a set of big dents in the passenger side door. "I know you did this, you little prick. You're gonna pay for it."

Curtis glanced from the dents to Todd, who had his fists clenched and was practically vibrating with pent up tension.

"Seriously, you're bitching to me about a few dents in your fucking car?" Todd growled. "You cut me up, you giant douche."

"This is the guy?" Jenny demanded.

"I want my phone back " Curtis stabbed a metal finger at Randy.

Randy cocked his head, eyes traveling over the girls, lingering on Jenny, who narrowed her eyes and glowered back.

"Well, damn, ain't you a hot little piece of ass?" He patted the hood of the car and grinned lewdly. "Could bend you over right here and show you what a real man feels like."

"Fuck you - -" Was as far as Jenny got in response to that, before Todd was surging past her, going for Randy. The only thing that stopped him from making contact was Jenny clutching a handful of his t-shirt and making him falter enough for Curtis to get in front of him and throw his weight against Todd's forward momentum. All his tough talk about being right with Todd for the ass kicking of Randy - - when it came down to it, Curtis was a whole lot more of a lover than a fighter, when it wasn't down to life and death. A knock down drag out in the school parking lot in front of the girls just struck him as not the brightest move on any of their parts.

"You son of a bitch - -you fucking bastard - -" Todd was growling, on the verge of sobbing in his incoherent rage, trying to get past Curtis.

"He deserves it, man - - he deserves it," he had his arms around Todd, and even though Todd had the height on him, Curtis had the mass and if he didn't want Todd getting past him, Todd wasn't getting past. "But not here. Not now - -"

"You asshole," Jenny stabbed a finger at Randy. "You stay away from us. Stay away from him."

Randy laughed, holding two fingers up to his lips and flicking his tongue at her lewdly, then giving Hannah the same treatment, before he strode back around to the drivers side and slid behind the wheel, revving the engine before peeling out of the lot.

"Oh, my God," Hannah whispered, eyes wide behind her glasses.

"That dick," Jenny muttered, tearing her glare away from the receding tail lights of the Camero and back to Todd, who was so pissed he was trembling. Curtis could feel the frantic thud of his heart, before Todd pushed away, stalking a few paces, fists still clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

Jenny followed him, lying a hand on his arm, and he flinched from the touch, almost like for a second he didn't even realize it was her. She didn't shy away though, just stood there staring up at him until something closer to sanity edged back into his eyes. He let out a breath, shoulders slumping as the tension bled out of him. He cast a glance back to Curtis, a desperate sort of look like he didn't know whether to be pissed at him for holding him back or to thank him for it. Curtis figured in the long run, he'd go with the latter. Todd had a short temper and a low tolerance for assholes and he talked big, but he wasn't any more of a brawler than Curtis.

In the shade of an old oak, across the parking lot, sat a beat up old Chevy. It, or some facsimile thereof, had sat in this parking lot at one time or another, for close to five decades. The car had over time, changed, but it was almost always invariably a beat up, ramshackle excuse for a vehicle. The passengers never did. Oh, they changed their clothing, ever evolving with the times, but they themselves hadn't aged a day in a very, very long time. Waiting and watching and biding their time.

A trickle of smoke seeped out of a barely cracked window, and the low chuckle of amusement followed it, as the black Camero across the lot peeled away, spewing burnt rubber in its wake, and leaving four teenagers staring after it.

"So damned easy," Brody took a deep drag off a half inch joint and passed it idly to Eddie.

"As quick as he is to go off, maybe we shoulda waited, and he'd have gone over the deep end sooner or later - -" Rob leaned over the backseat, staring through the dirty, cracked wind shield at the kids.

"With a little prodding - -" Eddie passed the joint back, blowing smoke through his nostrils

"No." Brody shook his head. "That's not the vibe I got. I think he might have held. We were right to go with an alternate plan. All or nothing and you end up with nothing."

"Feels like settling." Eddie complained.

"I'm okay with settling, long as we get something out of it at the end."

"Long as we have fun while we're doing it."

"Long as the loser that screwed us over pays."

Brody grinned, the nub of a joint back in his possession. "Oh, he'll pay."


	10. Chapter 9

9

It was a silent, tense ride to the local mall. Todd couldn't stop seeing red around the edges and this time it had nothing to do with the Book. Fucking Randy Savage. He could deal with what the douche had done to him - maybe not well, but he could be coherent about it - - but what he'd said to Jenny just made him crazy.

He slouched in the backseat with Curtis, staring blackly at the back of the passenger seat, thinking how good it had felt Saturday night when he'd planted his knee in the bastard's nuts. Thinking that if he came across the Camero again, he'd do more than put a few dents in the door panel.

"Dude, you need to breathe." Curtis nudged him, a worried furrow between his brows.

Todd felt the urge to deny any such need - - only Curtis had a point and he was making himself a little light headed and it wasn't Curtis' fault.

"You heard what he said to Jenny," he leaned in and whispered it, as if Jenny wasn't sitting right up front and could hear.

"He was just talking trash and you let him get to you," Curtis patted his knee.

"And when I need you to get into fights for me, I'll let you know," Jenny tossed back, sounding pissed.

Todd slouched a little deeper. "That's great, Jenny. You do that."

The Crowley Mall was a conglomeration of a couple of decades worth of add ons and renovations, that made up a haphazard sort of shopping maze. There was the big main building that housed the big name chain stores, and the food court and a couple of dozen smaller shops, and then spindling off from the main complex were a bunch of strip shops, accessible only from the outside. It was the town's only big mall though, so it got a reasonable amount of traffic.

It was close to lunchtime when they walked in though, so the foot traffic around the food court was heavy. They got burgers from Elmo's Big Burger and it wasn't until they were halfway through the meal that Todd felt the tension really start to drain away. Maybe it was the wondrous greasy food, or listening to Hannah and Jenny talk about stuff like whether Hannah ought to go a little more daring for her new wardrobe than her usual habit and Hannah objecting to the idea. Curtis had an opinion on that, and the three of them got to talking fashion and Todd sat there and let the sound of their voices push away the last of the pressure.

"So, Penny's first?" Jenny asked, when they'd finished. "You guys wanna come shop with us, or meet back here in a couple of hours?"

"God, meet back here," Todd said, before Curtis could volunteer them to trail after the girls while they clothes shopped.

"They're gonna be trying on clothes, in dressing rooms - - asking for opinions," Curtis complained as they parted ways. "It could be fun."

"Dude, they're gonna be trying on _clothes_, _in_ dressing rooms - - asking for _opinions_. I'd rather eat paint."

"What if they try on lingerie?"

Curtis had a point there. Todd considered, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. Besides, they were shopping for Hannah and he didn't picture her as the sexy lingerie sort of girl. More granny panties and sensible bras. Of course he could be wrong. He would have asked Curtis, but he was pretty certain he'd never gotten a close up personal view of what his girlfriend wore under her clothes.

Jenny on the other hand would have a drawer filled with video vixen lace panties and push up bras - - he had it all figured out in his imagination - - having pictured her more times than he could count in his mind in a wide variety of sexy lingerie.

He sighed longingly. The signals she'd been giving him since she'd come back were so confusing that he felt a little dizzy trying to figure them. Trying to figure out Jenny had always been like trying to understand trigonometry, just beyond his scope of abilities. She was so angry at the world that she didn't always let people in, but she'd been getting better before she'd left for the city.

And she'd been sort of touchy feely since she'd been back, which he didn't know how to interpret, but he thought it might be a good sign.

"Curtis, can we go smoke that J?"

"Hell, yeah," Curtis was always up for getting high.

They went outside the mall, out behind one of the shops loading dock doors, and sat on the grass next to a battered employee picnic table and lit up Curtis' joint. It was the best possible way to pass time. The pot did what nothing else could have, white washing all the stress and tension and knife edged memories of the last few days. Hold the smoke inside long enough and everything got soft edged and manageable. Sometimes when they got high, he and Curtis would babble like a pair of girls, every notion that crossed their minds brilliant and mind blowing. Other times they didn't talk at all, just sprawled, letting the weed numb all the harsh edges. They were never out of sync, not since the first week they'd known each other. Like Curtis knew him better than he knew himself. Knew when he needed to just sit there, shoulder to shoulder and drift with the undulating wave of the high.

They were still a little wasted when they headed back to cruise the mall. Curtis always said it made everything brighter and more surreal when he strolled around a place like this buzzed. With Todd everything slowed down a little, and went soft and hushed. They walked the outside shops, instead of going back inside. The stores here were smaller, most of them not franchised, less clothes and more occasional cool stuff. There was a comic book store down towards the end, and a used video game shop where they could waste time until they had to meet back up with the girls.

"Do you think," Curtis said, finally bringing things back up that he'd been thankfully silent about while Todd had been reveling in his high. "Randy's gonna stay in school? Was he just there trying to - - you know - - or what?"

"I don't know." It was unsettling thinking about Curtis having to deal with him during summer school without Todd there to back him up. Randy wasn't just an asshole, he was a violent asshole. And he had more friends to back him up than either one of them could deal with.

"What about Jenny? Is she gonna stay?"

That was a worse question. "I don't know. Her mom called her yesterday and they had a screaming match - - she wouldn't tell me what it was about, but I can pretty much figure."

"Yeah, she stole her car _and_ her credit card."

"Curtis, she can't leave. I mean - - I think I could get somewhere if she stayed - - I told you she almost kissed me a the dance, right?"

Which vital information might not have been shared. What with Hannah's death and Curtis' subsequent blaming of him, they hadn't really been in a place where it had felt comfortable sharing world shattering personal events. It had practically killed him not to talking about it with him, though. To be honest, Curtis was a little better at the personal interaction stuff than Todd was and had been Todd's advisor in such matters since he'd been old enough to actually appreciate girls. Maybe not the _best_ advisor, since Todd's luck in the area of the opposite sex had been pretty dismal, but maybe that was more Todd than Curtis' bad advice. There'd been a few years there, after his dad had died and his mom had started dating again and going through new husbands - - that he'd been pretty pissed off and angry. Any girl with half a brain would have avoided him. And then once he'd seen Jenny - - he could still remember that day in 8th grade, the first time she'd stalked past him, pale skin and black hair and sullen blue eyes, like an angry Goth Snow White - - and he'd been in love. Of course she hadn't known he existed until the Book showed up last year, but he'd been devoted, nonetheless.

It was monumentally unfair that as soon as she actually started showing interest that she might get taken away. He said as much and Curtis patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"It'll work out, Dude. I got Hannah back. You'll get Jenny."

"Yeah, that sounds great when you say it out loud, but when has my luck ever been that good?"

"Listen, she can be a real bitch and she's sorta mean,"

Todd snorted at the dismal accuracy of that statement.

"But she's giving you _looks_, man, and she's gotten all protective - - trust me, she's got it for you. Patience, dude. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Todd could think of a few occasions, and he'd actually started tallying them up in his head, when Curtis grabbed his arm and jabbed a finger excitedly towards a store across the way.

"Holy shit, is that what I think it is?" Curtis breathed in awe.

It was a new store where the old peanut shop that had closed down a few years ago had been. The slot had been vacant since, but now there were an array of posters on the storefront windows, all of them metal bands. Death metal, grindcore, thrash, classic bands, some new bands - - all of them totally cool - - and a vinyl banner over the door that proclaimed, "Hellmouth Records".

"Awesome." A metal shop. In Crowley Heights. It was the most amazing, wondrous thing.

And it wasn't just a record store, they discovered to their delight as they burst through the doors. There was clothing and leather, buttons and jewelry, used guitars on the walls, and another wall full of the most awesome t-shirts imaginable. And most wonderful of all, a glass case full of bongs of the most creative design. There were a couple of other guys browsing through the albums.

"I've died and gone to heaven," Curtis whispered, clutching Todd's arm hard enough that it actually hurt.

Todd pried his fingers off and delved deeper into the cornucopia of wonderfulness, heading for a big wooden rack of studded, leather wrist guards while Curtis was pressing his face to the bong display.

"Holy crap, Todd, they've got a Hello Kitty bong, and a Godzilla bong, and - - and - - look at this penis bong - -" Curtis espoused.

Todd glanced at the other guys warily, hoping they didn't take Curtis' honest appreciation for bongs - - any bongs, of any shape - - as anything other than what it was.

"Dude, let's avoid the cock bongs."

"What's the matter, don't like the idea of wrapping your lips around a big cock, boy?"

The other customers heard that one and glanced his way, with wary amusement. Todd narrowed his eyes indignantly at the comment, which had come from behind the cluttered counter the back of the store.

"You're hilarious douchwad - -" he started, and stopped, the ground dropping out from under him as he actually saw the guy.

"Not cool," Curtis was saying, offended on his behalf, but Todd could barely hear him through the rush of blood in his ears. All he could do was stare, frozen in his tracks as the guy stood up, and up, as big as he remembered him from the woods when he'd been slicing into his chest. All Randy made him feel was pissed off and violent - - this guy with his small eyes like bits of obsidian and his bull neck and the tendrils of that evil tat creeping out from under his t-shirt - - this guy scared the shit out of him.

The guy - - what was his name - - Draxal - - yeah, it had been Draxal Godslayer or some such made up shit - - moved out from behind the counter into the aisle between him and Curtis, sort of blocking Curtis' easy access to the door, which sucked, because Todd wanted to take off like a bat out of hell. But he wouldn't leave without knowing Curtis was behind him.

"I'm thinking," Draxal strolled towards him, cracking the knuckles of one big hand. "It'd be a good look for you, huh?"

"Fuck you, asshole." Was about as eloquent as Todd was capable of at the moment. The other two customers were edging towards the door, figuring something way out of the bounds of normal customer relations was going down.

Draxal cast them a glower and commanded in that Danzig voice he'd perfected. "We're having a grand opening sale. Tell your friends."

They nodded hastily and scrambled out the door.

"What the hell, man?" Curtis was trying to get past the guy, but the guy wasn't moving to give him room. He just looked around once with that simmering stare of his and Curtis paled a little bit and backed off, wide eyed and confused. Not getting who the guy was, just that he was being a major dick for no reason.

Draxal moved towards him and survival instinct just took over and Todd stepped back, into the rack of leather. The guy got right up into his personal space, one hand on the rack beside his shoulder, the other on the row of albums, boxing him in.

"You miss me already, Todd?" The guy grinned at him. "Don't worry, you and me, we're not close to done."

"Oh my God, you're him." Curtis was hovering past Draxal's shoulder, finally making the connection that Todd couldn't make his vocal chords work well enough to spew out. "You're that Danzig Satanist guy, aren't you?"

Draxal shrugged, not displeased apparently by the comparison. He didn't take his eyes off Todd though. Until Curtis grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away with an angry, 'back off.'

"You have a death wish, kid?" Draxal didn't take kindly to Curtis' hand on his arm, and swung around, one big fist clenched, ready to strike. It was enough to snap Todd out of his stasis and he shoved the guy hard, as he was turning, putting him off his balance. The guy staggered a step backwards, and whether Curtis meant to tangle his feet up in the guy's legs or it was a happy accident, it happened. Draxal lurched into the record display, and Todd grabbed Curtis by the collar of his shirt and hauled him out of there, while the big guy was cursing and trying to regain his balance. They slammed out the door and ran, colliding with shoppers as they pelted blindly down the sidewalk. Todd stopped, once he'd turned the corner and reached the doors leading into the main mall, waiting for Curtis to catch up, staring around the edge of the building to see if they were being pursued.

They weren't. There were just a few disgruntled people they'd jostled in their flight, casting angry glowers in their direction. Curtis was wide eyed and panting when he rounded the corner, colliding with Todd, the both of them sprawling against the cool stone of the wall. It felt like his heart wanted to beat its way out of his chest and it had nothing to do with the run. He didn't know why he was surprised that the day had gone from bad to absolute crap - - other than maybe after half the summer bored out of his skull he'd gotten out of the habit of expecting the shit to hit the fan.

"That was him, wasn't it?" Curtis wheezed, leaning over his knees.

Todd nodded, pushing hair out of his face and looking around the corner one more time.

"Holy shit, Todd, he did look like Danzig. But like even huger."

There was nothing to do but laugh a little miserably at that observation and slide down the wall and sit there while he tried to convince his hands to stop shaking. Curtis slid down next to him, eyeing him with a furrow of concern between his brows.

"You okay?"

"Great." He shrugged, like it was no big thing, but Curtis knew him too well to believe it.

"Dude, we could go to the cops. This guy assaulted you."

Todd cast him a disbelieving glance. "Really? And tell them what? That's he's the head of a Satanist cult - - not the old one that they're probably all part of - - and that he came after me 'cause I'm the Pure Evil One and he needed to fuck me up so he could bring back the Book of Pure Evil?"

Curtis mulled that over for a bit, before he nodded slowly and conceded. "Yeah, I can sorta see the problem with that."

Todd snorted, dropping his forehead to his knees. "I can't believe that the first decent music shop in town is run by a Satanist."

"Yeah, that blows. And I wanted that bong."

Todd cast a glance up at him through his hair. "Tell me not the cock one?"

"The Godzilla one." Curtis smirked at him, then narrowed his eyes. "Was he coming on to you? 'Cause it sorta sounded like he was coming on to you."

"Gross - - no." Todd denied it reflexively, the notion just too wretched to contemplate, then he thought about it and his stomach flip flopped a little, because well, even though his experience with being hit on was limited - - there had sort of been a creepy vibe.

Eww. Just eww. "So, let's not mention that part to the girls, okay?"

Atticus had spent the last few days trying to get his life back in order. Being trapped in a hellish limbo for half the summer had left all the little everyday things of real life in somewhat of a shambles. The electric company was on the verge of cutting off his power, and he had to fight, as well as produce two months worth of past due payments to keep from being plunged into a different sort of darkness. He spent Monday afternoon begging for his job - - trying to explain away why he'd neglected to show up for work for the last few weeks of school - - actually more like a month, but apparently no one had taken note of his absence, until several weeks in someone noted the lack of a school guidance councilor.

He wasn't sure whether to be grateful that the black marks against him weren't so black, or insulted that his vital role in the guidance of young minds went so unappreciated.

Having secured his livelihood - - albeit with an embarrassing amount of groveling to Principal Mulroney - - he went about trying to put together the tattered remnants of the non-school related portions of his life. Being a Satanist was all Atticus had ever known, born, bred and raised by the brotherhood. Granted, there had been times, especially when he'd been younger and inclined to youthful eccentricities - - when he'd questioned the wisdom of the society and his father - -and one really didn't like to dwell on certain moonlight sacrifices of virginity to the dark powers - - but he'd always been a loyal follower and a good son.

So really there was nothing else to do but try and gather the shreds of his dignity and reestablish the society.

He made a few overtures to some of the displaced elderly Satanists, looking for a hint of interest in reforming the grand old Crowley Height's sect - - but for a bunch of old farts, their memories were bitingly sharp and they remembered only too well the fate of the last active members of his brotherhood. It wasn't like he had a lair to gather disciples in, anyway, with the retirement home embers and ashes - - thanks to Todd. So there was really nothing to do but consider trying to insinuate his way into this new, somewhat unorthodox sect that had invaded his rightful territory.

A Lammas day celebration seemed a good way to break the ice. A little blood letting, a little chanting to the Dark God always tended to lighten the mood. The goat farm in Crowley Heights was always appreciative of their business. They even offered a buy one get one half off discount for those special occasions when one blood sacrifice just wouldn't do.

Of course the Crowley sect had gotten a little lax in the ceremonial ritual department over the last decade or two, most of its members to arthritic to really get into a good satanic orgy of blood and sex - - but Atticus had heard tales of the good old days when Sabbath nights in Crowley Heights had been awash in sex and sin. This new group looked as if they were particularly skilled in the sex and sin department, which he found just a tad disturbing.

But thankfully, the Lammas day ritual was traditionally one of blood sacrifice only, so hopefully no joining in on orgies might be expected of him. He had rather a bad taste in the back of his brain regarding the more sexual oriented Dark Sabbath holiday sacrifices.

The voice in his head rather testily suggested he _not be a pussy about it, real men took what they were doled out and manned up._

"And real fathers don't offer their sons up during Demon Revels as sacrifices to the sexual appetites of demonic forest dwellers."

_The sacrifice means more if the blood involved is your own._

"How convenient for you then, that you managed to impregnate mother, you shriveled old ass."

The voice in his head chortled. _Your mother was a fertile woman. Are you sure you were the only one?_

Atticus stopped what he was doing, fingers frozen on the patch he was sewing onto the most presentable of the old ceremonial robes, as that thought struck him. That he might have had a brother or sister - - fleetingly alive before his father had offered blood of his blood up in a gesture of humility to gain favor of the dark lord. And for what? Power? Immortality? Riches? They'd had none of those things. What they had had was the Book of Pure Evil - -however tenuously. For close to a century it had lingered under the care of the society here. Coincidence? Or a great deal of effort and sacrifice by generations of Satanists?

"Well." He huffed out a breath, finding that notion vaguely disturbing. "And look where that got you, old man."

Four days home and Jenny found she liked living with Hannah a lot more than she liked living with her mom. Hannah didn't hog the remote control - - she didn't watch a lot of TV at all, preferring to read or research things online - - she was quiet, she did the dishes before they even started to pile up, and when Curtis came over, which he had after school for the last two days, Jenny didn't have to worry about what they might be doing in her parent's bedroom. She'd never been sure with her mom and the occasional man she'd bring home.

Hannah behaved more like a guest than a roommate and Jenny wanted to tell her to relax and chill out because she was okay with making this a permanent thing. It wasn't like Hannah had anywhere else to go, and it wasn't like Jenny's mom had any intention of coming back.

There had been a heated conversation about that yesterday, her mom threatening to have the sheriff pick her up for car theft and have her brought in handcuffs back to the city, if need be.

"Why, the only reason you want me there is so you can cash in on Dad's insurance money."

"You're a minor and you're my responsibility." Which had been the biggest load of bullshit Jenny had ever heard.

"Right and when did you develop this sudden wellspring of motherly concern? It wasn't around all those years when you'd be off in the city screwing around on dad, and dad would be off on a story. You know how many times I was home by myself for weeks at a time? Where was it when you took off and abandoned me and dad when he was in the coma? You can rot in the city for all I care, but I'm not coming back and you're not welcome here."

After which she'd stabbed the end call button on her phone like she was trying to draw blood and turned to find three sets of wide, shocked eyes on her from the couch where Todd, Curtis and Hannah had been sitting, the former two watching TV, the latter reading something on the laptop. She hadn't realized she'd meandered back into the living room during her rant. She'd started out the argument in the back yard - - which she had gotten Todd to cut for her yesterday after he'd gotten off from his summer job of cutting people lawns for money - - and had meant to keep it private.

"So you're staying?" Was what Todd had gotten from all that, and she tightened her mouth and turned on her heel to stalk into her room. She sort of wanted to cry, but she wouldn't.

"Hey, you okay?" Todd stood in her doorway, looking uncertain.

"Do I look okay?" she snapped, still angry, still out for a little blood. "God, just give it a rest."

"I'm sorry," he shrugged, trailing off a little helplessly, letting that apology cover all manner of possible ills. She had the feeling he was feeling out of his depths - - he had that slightly wary, confused look in his eyes - - and was only hovering in her doorway because he felt obligated.

"So this is your room, huh?"

She gave him a narrow glance and said crossly. "You've seen it before."

"Not on purpose," he defended the unfortunate sequence of events that had seen him in her bedroom. Naked. Jerking off. She hadn't been pleased at the time. But with a clearer head, looking back, she didn't have entirely unappreciative memories of the occasion. He looked good naked. But it hadn't been his fault. This wasn't his fault and drawing his blood when she really wanted to draw her mom's wouldn't make her feel better.

"Yeah," she capitulated, then jerked her head, giving him the go ahead, if he wanted to venture further in.

He did, sort of warily, eyes flicking about, taking in her posters, and the candles on her dresser, the picture of her and dad she still kept stuck in the frame of her mirror, the bra hanging off the back of the chair, all her private things that she felt just a little naked revealing to him.

"She really gonna set the sheriff on you?" he asked.

Jenny shrugged. "She wants the car back. I don't care. She can have it as long as she leaves me alone."

He grinned at her. "The sheriff would regret coming after you."

"Yeah? You're saying I'm such a raging bitch they'd regret making my acquaintance?"

"No!" It took him a second to realize he'd blundered into a minefield and he back peddled trying to get himself out of it. "That's not what I meant. You're such a shining example of wonderfulness that they'd feel guilty even suggesting you had criminal tendencies?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, you're reaching so far you're gonna get a hernia."

And maybe it was just her temper being up from her conversation with her mom, or maybe it was just him, with that startled, wary look in his eye, like she was something he needed to tiptoe around, but him sitting on the edge of her bed was a dangerous thing. She had the strongest urge to shove him backwards and stick her tongue down his throat. If she crawled onto his lap and straddled him, grinding her ass against his crotch, he'd be hard in an instant. She knew it for a fact, having seen no few spontaneous erections when he was just sitting in class staring at her dreamily. If she actually touched him, slid her hand down the front of his jeans, she thought he'd probably come before she even managed to get a good grip. But that was okay, he was seventeen. He'd bounce right back.

"You okay, Jenny?" he was staring at her warily.

She was breathing hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. And sanity suddenly splashed cold water on her face. If she went down that road, she'd never shake him. And though a quick fuck might not be such a bad thing, she wasn't prepared for commitment. She was terrified of it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," She shot up, just the tiniest little tingle still lingering between her legs. "So what were you guys watching on TV?"

And that had been yesterday in a nutshell.

Today, Hannah proved yet again what excellent roommate material she was, when she came to Jenny with a tentative suggestion.

"This may be out of line, Jenny and you can tell me to shut up, if it is - - but I was doing a little research about getting declared an emancipated minor. You're seventeen and with your mother's past neglect I think any judge would grant you independence from her guardianship. Just the threat of seeking legal recourse might get her to give you a little leeway."

Jenny stared at her. "You found that out for me?"

Hannah shrugged one shoulder, a little self-consciously. "You're my friend. It's what friends do. It's just information. It's up to you what you do with it, but I think it's worth looking into."

These friends of hers, Hannah and those two idiots, who up until a year ago she never would have spoken more than a passing word to, if that, never ceased to confound her.

"Yeah - - Thanks."

And after a while, once she'd gotten over the notion that Hannah, who'd just found out she'd been created in a test tube and incubated by Satanist scientists, had been thinking more of Jenny's mundane problems than her own, she'd gone back and asked. "Maybe you could show me a few sites, get me a little more information, so when I talk to her, I sound like I know what I'm talking about?"

Hannah had beamed at her, like Jenny had just made her day, and inexplicably, for the second time in two days, Jenny had felt the tiniest creep of wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Summer school let out early on Friday, and Todd was waiting for Curtis on the steps of Crowley High when he got out. It had been a relatively quiet week since the Tuesday when they'd visited the mall. There'd been no more run ins with Randy, who'd only showed up to school once that week, and had sat in the back of class staring holes in the back of Curtis' head, but had left it at that. Hannah had found an article in the Crowley Gazette Thursday about a freak accident that had taken the lives of a kid and his parents. The police were refusing to speculate on the nature of the accident, but neighbors had reported that they'd seen a spider the size of a Volkswagen skittering away from the home, before being hit by a passing truck. No giant arachnid corpse had been found, just a puddle of goo on the road, and two shriveled bodies inside the house. The couple's son, who reportedly had been an avid collector of insects had yet to be found.

The whole thing smacked of the Book of Pure Evil being back in business. And since it was back in business outside the school and likely to strike anywhere around town - - there wasn't much they could do about it, if they only found out about the incidents after the fact.

So really, they might as well go with it, until there was something they could do and enjoy a summer that had alternately gotten better and worse while they did. It sort of evened out. They got the girls back and a bunch of new Satanists with a grudge against Todd moved into town. Life was funny like that.

Todd didn't particularly appreciate Curtis' take on it until they'd scored some weed off the hippies at the fish store and gone back to the old tree house behind Curtis' house to get stoned. Todd always appreciated Curtis' moments of brilliance more when he was wasted.

"Life's like an ocean." They lay on their backs on the floor of the tree house, staring up at the missing planks in the roof. Curtis waved his metal hand pointing at an imagined fish floating overhead. "And we're like - -like fish, drifting along and sometimes there's sharks that eat some of the other fishes - - like over there - -" he pointed and Todd followed his finger, caught up in the analogy. "And sometimes they go after the fist right in front of us and we like slice them up with our razor fins - -"

"We have razor fins? Metal razor fins."

"Yeah. Because we're bad ass fish - - but we can't be everywhere so sometimes, you know, shit happens?'

He passed Todd the joint and they were silent for a while, a cloud of smoke hazing the air overhead. Then finally, Todd said, impressed. "Dude, that is so deep. So the Book is the shark?"

"No - - the Book's the ocean."

"You said life was the ocean."

"Did I? This is good weed."

They lay there, savoring the high and Todd turned his head to look at him. "What do we do if we get the book?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't destroy it. I won't send it away again. I can't do it to you again - - or to Hannah." He shut his eyes and Curtis stared at him, thoughts whirring chaotically as his mind tried to catch up with the seriously fucked up reality that Todd had finally voiced.

"I don't know." He reached his flesh and blood hand down and grasped Todd's arm. It would have felt totally messed up grasping any other guy's hand, but with Todd it was all right. With Todd, who'd just as much as said he'd risk the book wrecking havoc on the world before he'd hurt his best friend again, it was more than all right. If he hadn't been so wasted, he'd have rolled over and hugged him.


	11. Chapter 10

10

Hannah found it was a little more difficult questioning the veracity of her own existence, when her friends didn't seem to care where she'd been born or what had gone into the mix of her cellular structure. They didn't even seem to mind that there was a body in a grave with her name on it that had been her, accepting - - with only minimal initial question - - that this new one, housed the same old her.

She still didn't understand that phenomenon, the transference of consciousness, and it appeared that her parents hadn't gotten far enough in their studies to be aware of that particular side effect. Her former self - - test subject B - - had been the first successful germination. Out of all the others, only this body - - subject D - - had also matured normally. So she supposed, she was Hannah D now.

Whether they'd actually been Satanists or just researchers with a distinct lack of ethics, she still wasn't sure, although she'd become to suspect the latter. Their observations were too clinical, and often when discussing the 'supernatural' aspects of the Book, tainted with the skeptical disbelief that people of pure reason held for the mysticism of blind faith. Any faith.

After almost a week of going through their notes, she had a good grasp of what they'd done to create her - - they'd been specific in the notations on their processes - - just not why. What if they hadn't even known the true goals of their benefactors? What if they hadn't cared, too immersed in the wonders of discovery to allow them to be concerned with the morals of their project? It was an easy slip to make in the thirst for discovery. She'd made it herself and she was barely seventeen. They'd had a lifetime.

But Curtis and Todd and Jenny had saved her from being that desperate girl, willing to go to any lengths to live up the false ideals of her parents. They accepted her now, when she appeared out of the blue like a doppelganger after they'd buried the original her. And when she looked into Curtis' eyes and saw that total trust, that total acceptance, it was hard to remember she was anything but a real girl.

It was Friday afternoon and for the first time since she'd been back - - really back - - Curtis and Todd hadn't come over directly after school and work respectively. Jenny had mentioned something about spaghetti for dinner and Hannah had offered to cook. She'd found a recipe online that looked promising. She'd make enough for the boys, assuming that sooner or later they would show up and if not, there would be leftovers for tomorrow. She liked Jenny's house. She liked the budding feeling of being a roommate instead of guest in someone else's home. That's how she'd always felt with her aunt. Which stood to reason, if the woman had been more her caretaker than a relative that had actually loved her

Her lip trembled a little at that thought. It felt like the worst sort of betrayal, pretending affection when you were really just safeguarding a project. No wonder she'd grown up awkward and emotionally stunted, more interested in science than making friends. She hadn't even noticed boys existed until she'd been sixteen and developed her first crush on Todd. She had to wonder now, if maybe that little bit of the Book fused into her very DNA hadn't been drawn to him - - sensing that he was destined to be the Book's chosen master.

She put on water to boil and stood watching the tiny bubbles form at the bottom of the pot, relieved for the moment to put her scouring of her parent's notes aside and just do something mundane and mindless. Jenny was in the living room, the television on, doing a little bit of research of her own, having taken Hannah's idea of legally removing herself from her mother's guardianship to heart.

When the doorbell rang, Hannah naturally assumed it was Curtis or Todd, or both. There was really no one else who might be calling, unless Jenny's mother had made good on her threat and called the sheriff on her. But of course, it was more likely the boys.

She listened for the sound of them, they were never particularly quiet in their arrivals - - but heard only a faint muffled thud, and silence. She canted her head questioningly, trying to focus her hearing.

"Jenny?" The water was boiling, so she put in a big handful of spaghetti, then went to peek around the kitchen door. The living room was empty. The front door halfway open.

"Jenny?" She repeated, walking towards it, thinking maybe the guys were outside and Jenny had gone out to talk to them. The yard was devoid of life, just the receding taillights of a car traveling at a good clip down the street away from the house.

Hannah frowned, a furrow gathering between her brows, a tingle of unease traveling up her spine. She walked slowly back to the house, and stopped at the front porch. The welcome mat was askew, as if someone had kicked it out of its proper place. It hadn't been that way when they'd come in earlier from the market with the fixings for supper. She knew it hadn't.

The tingle became fear and she stared in the direction the car had disappeared. Had someone taken Jenny? She wouldn't have left without telling Hannah - - not so suddenly.

_Oh God. Think Hannah. What do I do? The police. Call the police_. She grabbed Jenny's cell phone, which was still on the sofa table next to the open laptop and dialed 911,

"I think my friend had been kidnapped. Possibly by Satanists." Because really, other than Satanists and Book related murders, the crime rate in Crowely Heights was low. She tried to sound calm. Tried not to let the hysteria that wanted to bubble up out in her voice. She needed them to take her seriously.

But the voice on the other end of the line, after a pause, said rather peevishly. "This is the second time you've called this week about a kidnapping, Ms. Kolinsky, Don't think we don't keep records of caller ID. We don't take pranks calls and false reports lightly in Crowley Heights."

Hannah gaped disbelievingly. "But - she was just here, and now she's gone and the door was open and there was a car - -"

"Young lady, if I have to send a deputy out there, there will be charges filed for filing a false police report."

Hannah ground her teeth, all her calm and her vaunted reason evaporating. "So you'll file charges for someone wasting your time, but you don't bother to do more than a cursory investigation of all the dozens of murders that took place in just Crowley High last year? Do you even care that this town is the crux for an age-old evil? Never mind. I'll find someone who does."

She severed the connection, clutching the phone to her breast, rather amazed at herself for that outburst. She took a deep breath, calming chaotic thoughts and made herself focus. Todd and Curtis hadn't shown up this afternoon, of all afternoons, which meant one of two things. They'd gotten distracted playing video games at one or the other's house, or they were somewhere stoned out of their minds. She recalled Curtis mentioning something yesterday about going to the 'fish store' and stocking up. Since neither one of them had an aquarium, she could only assume that was some sort of code for one of their sources for cannabis.

Since neither one of them had replaced their cell phones yet, she needed to track them down another way. She looked up Todd's home number in the Crowley Heights phone directory, but the slightly inebriated man that answered said that Todd wasn't home and hadn't been all day. She called Curtis' house next. Curtis' mother, who Hannah had only ever met once, said that no, Curtis wasn't home, but that she thought she'd seen him and his friend messing around earlier in the field out back.

So Curtis' house it was. She had Jenny's cell, Jenny's car keys and a starting point.

Atticus adjusted his cloak, looking with smug satisfaction at his reflection in the floor length mirror on the back of the closet door. Though his sewing skills were nothing to brag home about, he had done an admirable job repairing the robe. He'd added a little black satin trim to make it more ornate, and considered how he might embolden it more with a inverted pentagram on the back, but seriously doubted his embroidery skills were up to the task. Regardless, he thought he looked rather snazzy, having chosen a black sweater vest to compliment the red robe. Any stylish Satanist would be impressed to have him at their ritual. And he did need to impress upon these new thuggish followers of the Dark Lord that he was a _stylin'_ - - he believed that was the phrase the kids used now a days - - Hooded Leader worthy of their respect if they planned on staying in Crowley Heights.

He combed his mustache, made sure his hair was immaculate, then headed out to his van. It was early yet for the midnight ritual, but he pick up a goat.

The Crowley sect had been neglectful of the ritual midnight ceremonial practices for years now, mostly due to the fact that midnight had been beyond the bedtime of most of its active members. But Atticus recalled a few from years past, where the not quite so old farts had gathered out in the forest to chant satanic verse, to offer up a goat. There'd usually been a barbeque afterwards, or at the very least a stop by the local 24-hour pancake house. Those were some of his fondest memories.

So, with the goat in the back of his van, finally rolled up the drive to the new cult's Beacon street house. There were a decent number of cars parked haphazardly in the grass, but other than what looked like a candle burning in one window, the house was dark.

Atticus eyed it warily, tightened his grip on the goat's lead, and headed towards it. When in doubt, walk purposefully, so he threw back his shoulders and put as much of a cocky saunter as he could in his stride.

Before he could take the steps up to the porch, a dark figure appeared from around the corner of the house. Atticus' heart nearly lurched up his throat at what seemed a silent materialization of the black cloaked, hooded figure.

"Well, hello. Am I early?" He ventured, attempting a suave smile.

The figure looked at him, then down to the goat, which was placidly chewing on the hem of his robe, then gestured up at the house.

"Inside. You can leave the goat."

The man turned, gliding away before Atticus could think up an argument that it was only good manners to accept house warming - - or Satanist cult warming as the case might be - - gifts. It was also rather poor manners to lurk about in the darkness, popping up on people unannounced, only disappear back into the bushes like some sort of macabre, Satanist concierge.

He jerked his robe away from destructive goat teeth, frowning at the mangled edge, then dropped the lead and climbed the rickety porch steps.

Goddamn Satanists. If Jenny had had any telepathic ability at all, the condemnation would be bouncing around inside the skulls of the guys who had grabbed her. As it was, she couldn't do more than grunt it through the gag, and do her best to kick at any body part that presented itself within her reach.

She'd gotten in a few good licks, but it didn't seem to phase them much, or hinder their efforts in the least dragging her from the car they'd shoved her into the back of, after grabbing her right off the front door of her house, driving her who knew where and hauling her into a musty smelling old house. At least she assumed it was and old house. It was hard to tell with a bandanna wrapped over her eyes, and her hands and feet tied. It was more the smell and the creak of floorboards as they moved around that hinted at age. They didn't talk to her, they didn't touch her after they'd pushed her down into a corner, on what felt like a pile of old blankets and she tried not to think what they were planning on doing to her.

It was the second goddamned time she'd been kidnapped, tied up and gagged by Satanists, though she had to admit this time was a lot, lot scarier than the last. Granted, being swamped by a shuffling, geriatric mob of devil worshipers hadn't been a cheerful experience, but they'd still been a bunch of old people led by Atticus and Atticus just hadn't inspired fear in her.

These guys, whoever they were, were different. The same ones that had taken Todd and ripped the Book out of him maybe, and if so not nice guys. If so, she'd like to get her hands on something hard and blunt and beat a few of them over the head.

The floor creaked from someone's weight close by. She sensed the closeness of a body as a form crouched in front of her, she could hear his breath and the bravado inside her head shriveled up and hid in a corner, even as she pushed herself back against the wall, drawing her knees up. A hand touched her bare foot - - she'd been in sweatpants and a tank top, curled up comfortably on her own couch when they'd rang the bell - - and she flinched, kicking out at the unwanted touch.

"Pretty. To bad Lammas day requires a blood sacrifice and not a sex one."

Someone deeper in the room chuckled and she tensed, a cold dread making her skin pimple. She'd done her reading on the darker occult practices when she'd been searching for her dad. She had a vague recollection of satanic holy days - - all of which required various sacrifices, most of which - - according to Internet sources - - consisted of blood and or sex. Not always lethal or non-consensual - - in fact she'd rather thought most of the hard-core stories were just that - - stories. After all, aside from Book related deaths, Crowley Heights was not a mecca of missing persons or runaways. But being kidnapped, tied up and brought who knew where - - those hard core stories were beginning to sound a little more legitimate.

Candlelight actually did the old house a favor, the shadows covering the dust and the cracked plaster and the accumulated unpacked junk. It smelled like alcohol though, and faintly of marijuana smoke and incense, when Atticus cautiously opened the door and poked his head in. There was no one there to greet him, just a few more candles placed sparingly here and there, a haphazard trail leading deeper into the house. It rather reminded him of a Halloween spook house the drama club at school had sat up a few years back to raise money for their annual fall production of some droll drama or another. The Satanic society had chided him relentlessly for his forced involvement, bitching and complaining that on the most sacred of their unholy nights he was overseeing a gaggle of disrespectful teenagers making a mockery of All Hallows Eve. He'd acted appropriately shamed, but honestly, it had been a pretty good haunted house and no few kids had run screaming from the exit, the drama club really sinking their teeth into their roles as ghouls and zombies and ax murderers, so it had proved more entertaining than he would have originally thought and more fun than groveling with the rest of the minions around his father while the man rattled off unholy rites. Of course this had been back before Todd had reawakened the Book and real monsters began plaguing the teenagers of Crowley High, with real, bloody results. Little wonder no one had suggested a spook house last year.

"Hello?" He ventured, hesitating to delve further into the house, until that voice inside his head suggested being a coward wouldn't win him points with these upstart Satanists. So he girded his loins and followed the trail of candles. Through the big parlor that he'd been in before, empty now, and into what might have been a formal dining room long ago when this house had been fresh and young. Now it was just a room with boxes stacked against the walls and a cobweb shrouded brass chandelier dangling like a green-splotched spider from the center of the ceiling.

He heard the faint sound of music wafting up from a doorway off what might have been a butler's pantry. A basement. A big house like this would probably have a large one. A dark, secluded place perfect for dark, secluded rituals. Atticus found he rather preferred not to venture down there.

"What's the matter, Hooded Leader?" The voice made him start. "You look a little spooked."

The young man from before, with the pointy blonde hair and the irreverent eyes, skulked in the shadows, the dark folds of a robe obscuring most of his body. The way he said 'hooded leader' was laced with the sarcasm of surly youth.

"Hardly." Atticus scoffed, waving a dismissive hand, settling into his most nonchalant stance. "I eat more frightening things for breakfast. And lunch."

The kid gave him a dubious look.

There was a muffled squeal from the shadows of a corner and Atticus took a hasty step back, thinking rats or possibly a possum that had wondered into the house. The fact that the squeal had almost sounded like a distorted version of his name only made it more unnerving. He blinked, that unnerving feeling notching up a degree or two to one of complete surprise as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he made out the shape of a girl huddled in the corner.

And most amazingly coincidental of all, this wasn't the first time he'd come upon this particular girl, bound and gagged, unexpectedly.

"Jenny Kolinsky," he spat, even as she was screaming something incomprehensible through her gag. He wasn't sure but whatever she was trying to say, seemed to predominantly consist of a great deal of cursing.

"What is she doing here?"

"You know this bitch?"

Atticus straightened, giving the kid a superior look. "This little troublemaker is part of the gang that hangs out with Todd Smith."

"You mean the Pure Evil One?"

Atticus sniffed, not liking to say it out loud. It wasn't that he was a sore loser - - but - - well, yes, damnit he was not only a sore loser, he was a bruised, battered and mentally scarred one. He waved a hand airily. "If you choose to call him that."

"She's his girlfriend."

Jenny made another muffled squeal that sounded like denial.

"I fail to see the relevance."

The kid snorted. "The boss's little squeeze came up with the idea. Best way to make the Pure Evil One bleed for his infractions is to make the people he loves bleed. I woulda rather fucked her first - - but the boss is a stickler for sticking to tradition on these Sabbath days, so alls we get to do is make her scream and little and slice her throat."

Jenny made a strangled sound. Atticus swallowed, feeling rather unsettled himself.

"But I brought a perfectly good goat."

The closest he'd ever come to human sacrifice in the service of the Crowley Sect had been the day old Wilfred Roberts had accidentally sliced his wrist when he'd been aiming to prick a finger during minor blood rites. It wasn't that he was particularly squeamish about the notion of a little judicious killing - - he'd racked up quite a list of crusty old farts himself in his rise to the top of the Crowley satanic society, but really, they'd all had it coming. And he had been gung ho for the notion of bringing about the fiery destruction of the present world, but he'd been of the belief that it would be replaced by a hellish paradise where the followers of the dark path would be treated as kings - - not the simple hell that he'd experienced beyond the pages of the Book. Slicing the throat of a teenaged girl, even if she was a sulky, bitchy teenaged girl, seemed - - well entirely satanic, but not the sort of satanic that Atticus felt comfortable with. Perhaps it was because for a while there he had been one of them - - their little gang - - and it had been a happy time for him - - before they'd booted him out. This squirming, furiously mumbling girl chief among the booters. So perhaps, she had it coming after all. No one crossed Atticus Murphy with impunity.

"Come on downstairs. Meet the whole group, before we start the ceremony. The boss is waiting for you."

He cast one more glance at Jenny, before following the spiky haired kid down into the basement. It was what one might expect of a hastily erected satanic lair. The basement was low ceilinged with cinderblock walls and impenetrable shadows leading off into nooks and cubbies that looked as if they might be a breeding ground for spiders. It was dank and smelled of mold and the sweat of too many bodies. They'd cleared the floor of the main section, laid down a huge black tarp with a white spray painted pentagram. Hastily prepared and rather frighteningly efficient if one wanted to perform blood sacrifices and then be able to gather up the evidence for disposal with as little effort as possible. Beyond that was a pedestal with a few black candles burning on it as well as the skull of some horned, hoofed animal.

There were perhaps fifteen men standing in the creeping shadows, all of whom turned eyes to him as he descended the narrow stair. Draxal Gottslayer stood behind the pedestal, leading a chant in a low, growly voice. He was shirtless under the cloak, and the contours of his chest and abdomen were a cornucopia of rolling planes and valleys of ridiculously well crafted muscle. There was a tattoo of a snarling, horned beast inside of a ragged pentagram that twitched along with his muscles as he flexed.

Gottslayer paused in his recitation and fixed Atticus with his dark gaze. Atticus only faltered a little on the last step, before he recovered from that visual slap. The man's gaze was so intimidating Atticus just knew he spent hours in front of a mirror perfecting it. Atticus put on his confident smile, the one he'd spent hours in front of his own mirror practicing himself. The one that said I'm a man to be reckoned with, I'm a powerful man and people like me, smile.

"Welcome, Atticus Murphy," Gottslayer intoned and really the voice fit the brooding glare, sort of rumbling out of his chest like he had hidden bass speakers on his person.

"Yes - - well. Nice little set up you have here. A little dusty - - and the mold could be a problem for those of us with allergies - - but really not half bad."

Fifteen sets of eyes kept staring. He had to admit the lot of them were a lot more impressive than the pool of wrinkled, doddering old Satanists he'd had to pull from. Not a one of them didn't look hale and healthy and no small bit dangerous. Really, very dangerous the way their eyes all managed to look so dead and dark. Enough to make a man's testicles contract just little.

"We're in the midst of completing the rites of U'thu Ru, then we'll cleanse our bodies and our palates in preparation of the bloodletting. Find a place in the circle and join in, if you wish."

"Ahh - - a good body and palate cleansing. Just what I was hoping for," Atticus smiled weakly, trying to recall exactly what the rites of U'thu Ru consisted of. It wasn't one of those rites that he'd ever been invited to participate in while his father ruled the Satanic society. The bloodletting, he was pretty sure he got the gist of. And annoying as she was, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around them dragging that girl down here and bleeding her dry on the handily prepared tarp. He was a respected high school councilor after all and she was a student under his responsibility. There was no reason whatsoever that the dark lord would not be perfectly happy with the blood of a goat as opposed to the blood of a teenaged girl if that teenaged girl just happened to disappear.

They were back to chanting, swaying around the edges of the pentagram, no one paying particular interest to him, their honored guest. A little insulting that - - what sort of hosts were they? But it did provide him the opportunity to edge towards the stairs. No one paid him any heed, so he crept up the stairs, wincing at the creaks.

He looked over his shoulder once, but no one had followed him up. So he hurried over to Jenny, who flinched violently as he reached for the blindfold. Angry blue eyes glared at him and she screamed something at him behind the muffling wad of her gag.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Or were you hoping to take a visit downstairs to have your throat cut?"

She continued to glare, but shut up. He loosened the gag and she immediately hissed at him. "Atticus, you prick. I should have known if there were Satanists involved, you'd have weaseled your way in with them."

She was likely the most annoyingly, unpleasant girl he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. He glared at her and snapped. "I don't weasel and helping their Sabbath day sacrifice escape is the surest way into their hearts and minds."

She blinked at him, that sound reasoning stumping her for the moment. He untied the rope around her ankles, then as she leaned forward, the one around her wrists. "Don't you have friends who ought to be risking their necks rescuing you?"

She glowered, rubbing circulation back into her wrists. He helped her scramble up, but ungrateful brat that she was, she jerked her arm out of his grip once she was on her feet and accused. "I don't know what you're trying to pull - -but it won't work."

"Oh, won't it? If you want to sabotage my devious plan, why don't you talk a little louder and maybe you can draw them upstairs. I suggest you take the chance I've given you and run. Maybe they won't find you in the dark."

She glared, but couldn't quite hold it, eyes flickering to the door to the basement.

"And what will you be doing?" She asked suspiciously. Which was a question with merit. What would he be doing? How kindly would they take the loss of their victim? Could he get away with saying she'd been gone when he got out of the bathroom? Working his way into their good graces after this might prove difficult. Or impossible.

_Nothing's impossible if you put your mind to it_. The voice in his head said, but it sounded less like his father's voice this time and more like the voice on his self-help tapes. Of course, explaining to a bunch of extraordinarily hard-core devil worshippers that their human sacrifice had slipped away, and hoping they'd be willing to use a goat in her stead, as opposed to possibly slicing the throat of the only outsider among them was a toss up. Draxal Gottslayer didn't seem like the sort of man that accepted substitutions with good grace.

_Stand your ground, Atticus. Show no fear and they'll respect you_. He didn't a quite have the time to debate the finer points of the downside of that that argument with himself.

There was the sound of boots on the stairs, and Jenny's eyes widened a second before she ran not away from the basement door like any sane recently escaped sacrificial victim, but towards it. She slammed it shut and turned the skeleton key in the lock.

Voices rose in alarm from the other side, and fists began to pound on the door, rattling it on its ancient hinges.

"What are you doing, Murphy, you dick?" It sounded like the spiky haired boy.

Atticus glared at Jenny, who shrugged and finally took his advice and bolted for the front door. There were threats coming through that door, directed towards him and it occurred to him that she'd just dashed his chances of getting in good with this new sect. Most certainly not on the verge of midnight in a house full of them crying for a blood sacrifice.

He stomped a foot in petulant frustration and ran for the front door himself. She was still in the yard, looking about for the best route of escape, when he pelted down the front steps. The goat ignored them both, busily trimming the grass near the porch.

"Oh, get in the van," he huffed, really not caring one way or another if she chose to throw his generosity back in his face. But surprisingly enough the ungrateful little shrew jerked open the passenger door and climbed in. He backed up wildly, managed to avoid the goat and spun dirt and gravel under his wheels as he shifted into drive.

The rear view mirror showed the dark figures of no few men spilling onto the porch and out into the yard as he careened onto the main road.

He slammed a palm against the wheel, spewing unintelligible curses.

"Do you know what you've done? You've ruined my good name. You've sullied my reputation as an upstanding Satanist. They were on the verge of accepting me."

"Are you out of your freaking mind?" she gawked at him. "They were going to sacrifice me and you're worried that they're not going to invite you to their fucking bake sales? God, Atticus, you're a prick, but you were never as much of a prick as those guys."

He blinked, comeback frozen on his tongue. That had almost been a compliment. Underhanded, granted, but still, likely the most positive thing Jenny Kolinsky had ever said about him, and that was counting the time when he'd been a part of their little gang of Book hunters.

He felt the oddest lump forming in the back of his throat.

"Well - " he coughed, trying to clear it out. "It's not the size of the prick that matters - -"

She gave him a typical teenage eye roll and looked out the side view mirror. "At least it looks like they're not following us."

Jenny leaned against the window, pressing her hands between her knees to keep Atticus to see how badly they wanted to shake. She didn't trust him, she didn't like him, but he was a better alternative than what was back at that house. She'd been attacked by a lot of crazy shit after she'd hooked up with Todd and Curtis and Hannah, batshit crazy stuff like homicidal homunculus', giant cocks that turned people to stone, flesh eating zombies and ravenous senior citizens to name a few, but none of those things had shaken her as much as tonight.

These were just guys - - murderous Satan-worshipping guys, granted - - but other than that, just a bunch of ordinary, mundane dicks and there something so much more fucked up about being attacked by something not remotely supernatural and walking away from it without feeling like your world had been turned upside down.

She didn't know if she was going to be able to sleep soundly again for a long time.

Atticus pulled up in front of her house, and it was dark, and her car was gone, which meant Hannah and probably the guys were looking for her. She felt a little better knowing that, that she had friends out there worrying about her.

"Well, " Atticus cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "I think it might be better for everyone involved if you didn't mention my part in your little adventure.

She snorted, giving him a disbelieving look. "Are you kidding me? Do you think we don't know you're a devil worshipping freak?"

"Satan," he corrected her, as if it mattered a great deal to him. "Devil is such a generic term."

"Whatever - -" She squinted her eyes at the glare of headlights coming down the street at them fast, and for a second her heart lurched up in her throat thinking - -_God they know where I live, they didn't have to chase us down, all they had to do was show up_ - - before she recognized her own LeBaron. It screeched to a catty cornered stop in front of the van, the doors popping open and people spilling out that Jenny was only too glad to see.

"Fuck," Atticus muttered, as Todd, who'd been driving, started stalking towards the van.

"Atticus, you dick, what did you do?"

Jenny got out, and Hannah, who was hanging behind Curtis, let out a little gasp of relief and rushed forward to hug her.

"I'm okay, guys," Jenny let Todd and Curtis know, just in case they were wondering. But Todd was sort of fixed on Atticus and Curtis was backing him up.

Atticus stepped out, judiciously getting the van door between him and possible bodily injury. "Why do you kids always assume I'm the cause of your troubles?"

"Because you usually are, asshole," Todd accused.

"You tried to kill Todd and destroy the world," Curtis added.

"I most certainly did not," Atticus denied, then gave a little half shrug when they gaped at him and relented. "Well - - maybe a little, but I was given bad advice. You can't blame me for that."

Todd raised his fists. Jenny rolled her eyes and got between them, holding up her hands. "Okay, I think we can all agree Atticus is an ass, but in this case - - he sorta saved my life."

"What happened?" Hannah was staring at her with big worried eyes. "We didn't know where to look - - we didn't know for certain who had taken you."

"Satanists," Jenny spat.

Todd's eyes flicked to her, then back to Atticus his testosterone so obviously revved up at the moment that she doubted he was getting the finer nuances of the conversation.

"Different Satanists," Jenny clarified.

"Yes, completely different," Atticus' seconded.

"The ones that went after you," Jenny tacked on, hoping it would finally get through. "Atticus helped me escape."

"I did. With great threat to my own personal safety."

Todd took a breath, swallowing, and finally tore his eyes away from Atticus to look at her and ask the important question. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "They didn't hurt me." She decided not to mention the threats of what some of them had wanted to do. He didn't need that imagery interfering with his rational thought when rational thought wasn't his strongest suit.

"What did they want with you?" Hannah asked.

"Now that's a fun story. Apparently I was going to be their llama day sacrifice."

"Lammas," Atticus corrected in a muted mumble. He was trying to edge his way back into the driver's seat.

"No way?" Curtis stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment. "Human sacrifice."

"Oh," Hannah wrapped her arms around herself, going pale beneath her freckles. Todd narrowed his eyes, and glared back at Atticus.

"You better not have been part of this,"

"Or what?" Atticus tried to put up a courageous face but it ended up just looked pasty and forced.

"Or I'm gonna kick your ass, is what."

Atticus scoffed, but he edged back towards the van. "I offered them a perfectly good goat. It's not my fault you've managed to piss off every satanic sect known to man or demon and they're going out of their way to make your life difficult."

"What?" Todd blinked at him.

Atticus stabbed a finger through the open window and clarified. "For two thousand years dedicated followers of Satan have been waiting for the prophesy to come to fruition and you screwed those hopes and dreams because of what - - teenaged angst? Trying to impress a girl? Some ridiculous sense of morality? Lack of the balls to follow through? Don't be surprised when people start going out of their way to screw you back and if that takes hurting the people that matter to you - - well, que sera sera."

"Is that a threat?"

Atticus rolled his eyes, throwing out his arms as if carrying on a conversation with Todd was eating away at the foundations of his patience. "You see my mouth moving, but do you comprehend the words coming out? Its not a threat - - its just how it is. I had nothing to do with it. I was vacationing inside the Book, remember?"

They stood there, all of them breathing hard for one reason or another, all of them a little pale and a little freaked out. Finally Todd asked.

"You're saying it's my fault they went after Jenny?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"Shut up," Curtis snapped, stalking past Todd a little and glaring at Atticus. "You guys being major dicks have nothing to do with him."

Todd glanced at Curtis, then to Jenny with that look in his eyes that she'd seen before. The realization that being what he was, there was always the possibility that the people around him might get hurt.

"Go home, Atticus," she said, then suggested. "You might want to lock your doors from now on. You're on their shit list, too, now."

He paled a little, but she figured he'd already figured that out for himself. The way things stood, they all needed to sleep lightly and be prepared for the shit to hit the fan.


	12. Chapter 11

11

Todd woke up to the sound of the Roadrunner taunting the Coyote. The trademarked _'beep beep'_ and the corresponding explosion hinting that the Coyote had just gotten his furry ass kicked yet again. He shifting an arm and squinted up at the vintage cartoon on the TV. He was sprawled amidst a tangle of sofa cushions and quilts on the floor of Jenny's living room. Curtis was sitting in that same tangle, a few feet away, avidly watching the eternal battle between predator and prey.

"God - - what time is it?"

Curtis glanced back at him and gave him a smirk. "8:30. Hannah's making breakfast."

Todd groaned, and dragged a blanket over his head. Being up at eight thirty on a Saturday was criminal. The cloth wasn't enough to muffle the sounds of pursuit on the TV. He'd been dreaming something vaguely disturbing - - but the memory of it had dissipated upon waking, leaving nothing but a sense of unease and a semi-hard boner in its wake. He could have been dreaming of wholesale slaughter of kittens and woken up with an erection, so that wasn't a surprise. He shifted onto his side, so it wasn't quite so obvious and sort of palmed it against his stomach, trying to get it to behave.

"Dreaming about Jenny?" Curtis asked.

"Fuck you, dude," Todd muttered.

Curtis snickered. But he might have been right. Maybe there had been something Jenny related in the dream scenario he'd been having. But not necessarily the good type of Jenny oriented dream.

Jenny had been pretty freaked out last night. A lot more than she'd let on. She hadn't done more than shrug when Todd had insisted that he was sleeping over just in case, and Curtis had seconded the motion. And that was uncharacteristic; a scared Jenny, when Jenny hardly ever let her guard down enough for people to see she had a soft side.

He didn't blame her for being freaked out. He knew from experience how hardcore scary the assholes that had snatched her could be. He was still having the occasional flashback moment himself, when he'd catch himself standing there, heart pounding, unexpectedly sucked back in to that nightmare of a night. The fact that they'd done it to her, made him see red around the edges and want very badly to fuck some bitches up. He just wasn't sure how he was going to go about said fucking.

To make matters so much worse - - well, worse in an embarrassing way - - he didn't even get to be the one to save her. Atticus had done it. _Atticus._ It wasn't fair.

He shoved the blanket back down, that last thought having gone a good ways to deflating his morning wood. "Jenny up?"

Curtis shrugged without turning. "I think I heard the shower."

Todd sighed, imagining Jenny in the shower right down the hall. His dick twitched again a little in appreciation of the mental image. He could smell bacon frying and other breakfast smells and that first thing Curtis had said to him actually penetrated.

"Hannah's making breakfast?"

Curtis nodded. "Yeah. She chased me out of the kitchen. Said I was more hinder than help." He grinned widely. "You know the last time I had something other than cold cereal for breakfast? Neither do I. She's so awesome."

Todd sat up and ran a hand through his hair. It felt like small animals had been nesting. Then again, maybe small animals had, because they'd been running through the woods again last night, going back to the only place he knew the Satanists had frequented, back by the old burned out nursery. Of course that had been a dead end and they'd all been losing their minds a little when they'd seen Atticus' van pull up outside Jenny's place.

She hadn't wanted to talk about it much more than he'd wanted to talk about his experience at their hands, but then she had a lot less details, having been blindfolded the whole time. She hadn't seen the faces of the guys who'd kidnapped her and didn't know where she'd been taken. Atticus knew though, and Todd figured if they needed to find that house, they could pry the information out of him.

"Come eat, guys," Hannah poked her head out of the kitchen and they got up and shambled in. There was indeed bacon, and scrambled eggs and a whole stack of pancakes, and Hannah standing there looking sort of smugly proud when Curtis gaped and made appropriately appreciative sounds.

"Save some for Jenny," Hannah cautioned when they started digging in, as if she knew Curtis tended to be a black hole where food disappeared.

There was actually food left when Jenny did show up, hair still damp from her shower, in a pair of cut off jean shorts and a little black vest over a white tank top. She grabbed a piece of bacon, folded it between a pancake and sat down next to Todd to nibble at it.

"So - - we gonna do anything about those assholes?" Todd finally asked the question they'd avoided last night, because Jenny hadn't wanted - - _vehemently_ hadn't wanted - - to talk about it.

"Like what?" Curtis asked warily, and he knew Curtis would back him on anything he tried. But he also knew Curtis was more of a waiting for trouble to come to him and trying to deal with sort of guy, over a hunting down trouble and nipping it in the bud before it got the chance, one. Todd honestly vacillated on which method he preferred himself. But he was feeling particularly motivated today.

"Like nothing," Jenny said. "We've already established that there are a lot more of them than there are of us and that they don't play by the rules. You're just gonna get your ass kicked."

"Yeah, well, we don't have to play by the rules either." He was offended by her prediction. He'd kicked major ass last year and the vast majority of it hadn't even been human.

"Don't be a moron. I don't need you playing white knight for me. I can take care of myself."

"Apparently not very well."

"They kidnapped you before they kidnapped me."

Todd glared. Jenny glared back.

"Guys," Curtis laid hands on both their shoulders, and Todd hadn't even noticed him getting up and walking around the table. "Let's take a beat, huh?"

"I think we can all agree that precautions need to be taken," Hannah said, still in her seat across from Jenny. "And I think from what we already know, that Jenny's correct in assuming that there are a lot more of these new Satanists than there are of us. More than you and Curtis could reasonably deal with, Todd. All you'd do was probably get hurt - - or worse - - and then where would we be?"

"You know I've got your back, dude," Curtis said. "But she's right. I'm not too keen on the idea of getting my ass kicked just to prove a point."

"What precautions?" Todd asked sullenly.

"I was thinking a little tactical self-defense," Jenny said with a cold smile.

"What, like learning martial arts?" Todd asked. "Last time I tried to teach you some ninja moves, you wouldn't have anything to do with it."

"You don't know any ninja moves," Jenny said dryly.

"I beg to differ," He said airily.

"We took karate when we were nine," Curtis backed him up.

"And how many sessions did you last through?"

"Uh - -" he exchanged a look with Curtis, who stuffed a piece of pancake in his mouth and shrugged. "Okay, we lasted three lessons, but it was a lot more boring than we thought."

"And then we got kicked out for sticking fireworks in the instructor's gym bag." Curtis rounded out the story.

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"But we've played a lot of kick ass martial arts video games, " Curtis said.

"And you pick up moves," Todd finished up.

"Don't you love it when they finish each other's sentences, Hannah? It's like they've got a whole brain between them."

It took him a second to get the insult and he narrowed his eyes indignantly.

"Todd you should repair Sand Dragon," Curtis went right on, not getting it at all. "Or make a new one."

Which distracted Todd from the insult, because that wasn't a bad idea. A three-foot sword went a long way to making assholes of any variety- - human or supernatural - - think twice before fucking with you. Yeah, he'd feel a lot better if he had a fully functioning sword at hand.

"I was thinking," Jenny said dryly. "Of getting a taser. One for me, one for Hannah."

"Cool," Curtis whispered.

"What, just for you girls?" Todd asked indignantly, thoughts switching off of awesome bladed weapons to sweet little purveyors of mega volts of electricity.

"Well, if you have a sword, you wouldn't need one, now would you?"

"Yeah," he mumbled resentfully. "But it would be cool."

She didn't say _'idiot'_, but he saw it in her eyes.

# # #

As it turned out, the rest of the summer passed uneventfully enough that the only time the newly acquired tasers got use were the two times Curtis accidentally tasered himself - - well, once was accidental, once was the result of Todd daring him to do it and after that the girls refused to let them play with them again.

Other than Curtis having to endure smug, nasty looks from Randy Savage when he attended summer school, the new Satanists didn't go out of their way to harass them. The Book was on suspiciously good behavior, only popping up in a way that drew attention a few times during the last month and a half of summer break. Only once where they were actually able to intervene and break the curse and of course the Book flapped away before they'd been able to grab it.

Even though Todd very badly didn't want to actually touch it again, and risk getting sucked in by the lure of its power - - they'd sort of decided, as a group, that it was better if they had it, if they could contain it somehow, than letting it run free. Hannah had been doing a lot of research trying to come up with a method of restraining it. Todd didn't care how they managed to lock it up, as long as he wasn't the one having to force the issue with it. He wasn't sure he could again and he didn't want to accidentally do something if he did try to subdue it, that might hurt Hannah. That was assuming that he could, with what the Satanists had done to him.

A lot of ifs.

Jenny worked things out with her mom. Meaning, she'd threatened her with legal emancipation and total control of her dad's life insurance inheritance if her mom didn't back off and let her be.

Hannah tutored Curtis relentlessly enough that he passed summer school and moved on with the rest of them to the esteemed position of seniors at Crowely High.

And bright and early, first day of the new school year, they all not so eagerly slogged towards the hallowed halls of Crowley's premier learning institution.

"Wouldn't you know it," Curtis elbowed Todd in the arm and jerked his head towards the beat up old Caprice parked in the same spot it had always sat all last year and after a summer long absence, sat once again.

"Shit," Todd said in disgust.

The Metal Dudes leaned against the car, idly passing a fat joint between them.

"Look at you, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to start broadening your young minds in this fine educational facility." Brody inclined his head.

"Losers," Eddie sneered.

"Fuck off," Todd suggested, not slowing, but maneuvering between them and the girls, more wary of them now that they'd declared a sort of war on him, than he had been back before he'd known what they were. Not that he knew now, but he had a better grasp than he'd had. Bad news.

"Aw, Little Dude, you wound us," Brody laughed at their backs.

"We'll be seein' you," Rob promised.

"Is that a threat?" Jenny hissed, but Todd caught her arm and kept her moving.

"They're full of shit. Just ignore them."

She sniffed, pulling her arm out of his grasp. The last weeks of summer hadn't gotten him any closer to where he wanted to be with Jenny. If anything, he was more confused than he'd ever been on just what signals she was throwing his way. She'd go from absolute, devastating rejection, to sidling up to him when they were over at her place, watching TV or playing video games - - Curtis had brought over his old PS2 and a crap load of vintage games - - and sort of blowing his mind and sending all sorts of encouraging signals to parts of his anatomy that didn't need any extra encouragement, without even trying. Like she was fucking with him, or leading him on just for the fun of it. Only Jenny had never struck him as being anywhere close to a cock tease. In fact, as far as he knew she'd been sexually active with her various boyfriends since ninth grade. Granted, he didn't have hard proof, just rumor and a few things on the boy's room wall, and the fact that he'd seen her frenching at least three different guys in the hallway in the years before she'd actually realized he existed. It was apparently just him she didn't seem to want to make out with. Which was so unfair it ought to be illegal because none of those guys had cared about her as more than arm candy and an easy lay. He loved her. He'd die for her. And she still wouldn't let him get closer than an accidental cuddle on the couch.

The fact that Curtis was getting _more_ than the occasional sofa action made Todd vaguely jealous. He didn't want to resent Curtis, he really didn't, but Todd's graciousness tended to wither and die when he was particularly frustrated and desperate. And Curtis had gotten to _second_ base. He'd told Todd, because - - well, they told each other pretty much everything. He'd literally been banging on Todd's bedroom door, dragging him out of a perfectly decent Jenny dream one morning, in his eagerness to share the news.

So Curtis got his hand under Hannah's blouse. Big whoop. Todd had sulked about it for two days, until Curtis had finally come up to him when it had just been the two of them and asked if something was wrong. And Todd had just flopped down on the side of the culvert where they'd gone to partake of a little weed and let it out in a huff of frustration.

"You get to feel up Hannah's boobs and Jenny won't even let put my arm around her without getting pissy. What's wrong with me?"

"Dude. Dude, " Curtis sat down next to him, nodding in sudden understanding. "Jenny's got issues. Hannah says so, too. There's nothing wrong with you. You're massively doable. _I'd_ totally do you."

Todd gave him a skeptical look and Curtis waved a hand and scoffed. "If I was a girl, I mean. Besides which, you've totally had sex."

"Yeah, but I'm starting to think it doesn't count if it was like a set up to get me to turn Pure Evil. And honestly dude, it wasn't as great as I thought it would be."

"That's because it wasn't Jenny. Did I tell you to be patient? You'll get the girl."

Todd propped his chin on his knees and watched a pair of kids a ways down, skate boarding down the other side of the drainage ditch. "I suck at patient."

"I know." Curtis draped an arm across his shoulders. "In the meanwhile, you can live vicariously through my sex life."

Todd rolled his eyes and sighed. Then after a while, reluctantly inquired. "Did they feel awesome?"

"Oh, dude - - the best type of squishy ever . . ."

And that had pretty much been the remainder of summer.


	13. Chapter 12

12

Hannah just showed up at the admin office and politely asked Mrs. Anderson why she hadn't gotten a class schedule. After blinking at her for a few seconds, the old woman fumbled for her keyboard, pulled up her records and said with a bit of honest confusion.

"Our records say you're supposed to be dead, dear."

Hannah sighed, smiled patiently and explained. "With the school's unusual mortality rate, you must have gotten me mixed up with some other student. Obviously, I'm not dead."

Mrs. Anderson exchanged looks with the other school secretary, who looked at Hannah, agreed with that assessment, then shrugged and went back to her work.

"I'll print you up a schedule now," Mrs. Anderson smiled apologetically. "And clear up that 'deceased' on your school records."

"I appreciate it, Mrs. Anderson."

Which put Hannah officially back among the living.

She hadn't quite believed it would be that easy. She smiled at Curtis, who was loitering in the hall, late for first period, waiting for her. He gave her a thumbs up and a grin and an 'I told you so', when she showed him her class schedule.

"Oh, we've got a new science teacher," she noted in excitement. They'd had a sub most of last year after the old science teacher had unexpectedly gotten murdered by a homunculus. Hannah's homunculus, actually, but it had been Book spawned and she hadn't been privy at the time to the Book's evil doings.

"Mr. Irving. I hope he's more professional than Mr. Farley."

They walked into first period biology and interrupted the teacher in the midst of writing her name on the chalkboard. Mr. Irving wasn't a Mr. at all, but a tall, thirty something woman, with pale blonde hair pulled back into a knot, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, and legs that went on forever. She was not wearing sensible shoes.

She turned and gave them a look for the interruption and Hannah hastily offered the note from the office. "I'm sorry, there was a mix up with my schedule."

Curtis was gaping. He located Todd at the back of the room, at a table with Jenny, and cast him a wide-eyed look. Todd grinned and nodded, eyes flitting back to the teacher, who despite her proper button down blouse and skirt still managed to look like she was on her way to a photo shoot for a men's magazine.

"I'm just late," Curtis said, when Ms. Irving turned her gaze on him. Her eyes flicked to his metal arm, and an eyebrow twitched curiously.

"Let's try not to make it a habit, shall we?" She had a low, velvety voice and Curtis' gape got considerably stupider. Hannah narrowed her eyes as he nodded in mute agreement, then caught his arm and pulled him towards the back to join their friends.

"Oh my fucking God," Curtis leaned in to Todd as soon as his butt touched the stool.

"I know, right," Todd exclaimed in an excited whisper.

Jenny rolled her eyes, looking bored.

"I've got her for earth science and Biology," Curtis fumbled with his schedule.

"Me too. I might actually go to class."

"You mean to actually learn something?" Hannah asked feeling inexplicably testy.

Todd sighed, ignoring her, staring, as every other guy in class was staring, with rapt attention at Ms. Irving's backside as she wrote on the chalkboard. Even Curtis.

"Idiots," Was Jenny's muttered appraisal.

Unfortunately, Ms. Irving seemed to know what she was talking about. She was concise and intelligent and seemed enthused about the subject of Earth Science. If not for that little spike of jealousy Hannah was feeling over Curtis' open mouthed stare every time Ms. Irving would lean over her desk and grant the class a glimpse of envious cleavage, Hannah would have been overjoyed at the prospect of a capable teacher that actually seemed excited at the prospect of teaching.

She felt just a little vindicated and a little less antagonistic towards Ms. Irving when she cracked her ruler on her desk with a sound like a gunshot and snapped at Todd and Curtis. "Would the two of you like a visit to the office?"

This was after a bout of half covert wrestling over the possession of a pen, that Todd ended up accidentally flinging, with some force, across the room to hit Wanda Winterbank in the back of the head.

Wanda glared, the class snickered and Ms. Irving wrote something in her attendance book that probably didn't bode well for Todd and Curtis.

When the bell rang, they gathered up their new Earth Science textbooks and filed out under Ms. Irvine's knife-edged blue gaze. They were almost at the door, Todd and Curtis jostling to be the first one out, when Ms. Irvine said.

"Mr. Smith. A second, please."

Jenny cast Hannah a bored eye roll, as if starting off the new year without Todd getting into some sort of trouble would have been a startling phenomenon, then abandoned the rest of them, strolling down the hall towards her locker.

Curtis patted Todd reassuringly on the arm, before bolting himself.

Hannah sighed, clutched her new text to her breast and thought, at least the Book hadn't reared its ugly head. But then again, the day was still young.

# # #

Todd shuffled back into the now empty classroom and stood in front of Ms. Irving's - - who he and Curtis had already dubbed the White Queen, because she so totally looked like the X-men's Emma Frost - - desk. He stuffed his fingers in his pockets uncomfortably while she flipped through one of a stack of folders in front of her. Looking down at her, the V of her white blouse showed off an awesome amount of cleavage. She was at least a cup size bigger than Jenny, maybe two and it was really distracting.

"So, Mr. Smith - - " she glanced up at him from over the rims of her reading glasses and he forced his gaze up from her boobs reluctantly.

"Yeah?"

"I like to keep abreast of my student's academic profiles."

He choked a little, wishing Curtis could have been there to hear her say 'abreast', because he'd never believe it when Todd told him.

"And it seems you've a very spotty record. You were tardy last year more days than you attended class, you had incompletes in four out of seven subjects and a grade point average that I'm sure you realize is below average - - and still you were granted passing marks. Your partner in crime, Mr. Weaver, has almost as dismal a record, but at least he was held back until he completed summer courses. Which you were not. Why is that?"

He blinked at her, trying to get his mind off her rack and functioning enough to come up with an excuse that didn't involve half the teaching staff cringing in fear of him the last few weeks of the last school year.

"Uhhh - luck?"

She cracked the ruler on the desktop hard enough to make him jump. "There are no free rides in life, Mr. Smith. There are no free rides in my class. I don't grade on a curve and I don't tolerate tardiness or horseplay in my classroom.

"What this school lacks is proper discipline. If the students here weren't allowed to run wild and proper guidelines and rules were enforced, this district wouldn't have had the highest mortality rate in the country last year."

"Noo - - I don't think that's it." He shook his head skeptically.

The ruler cracked down the desk again. The image flitted across his mind of her in a black leather dominatrix outfit and he sort of lost track of the next few sentences that came out of her mouth thinking about it.

She dismissed him with a wave of the ruler towards the door and he shuffled out, feeling a little dazed and a little turned on at the same time. He wasn't sure he was going to get that dominatrix image out of his head anytime soon.

# # #

Atticus Murphy was ready to immerse himself in the gratifying work of challenging young minds and guiding young lives through their high school journey towards a fulfilling and productive life. He kept telling himself that, repeating it like a mantra, as he watched all the dour, lack luster faces of kids forced away from the freedom of summer vacation trudge back into the halls of Crowley High. It was hard to convince himself of the veracity of it all though, when these kids looked like they'd rather be pulling teeth than attending class.

And though he might once have held an iota of interest in the guidance of young lives, after fifteen years of it - - practicing Satanism on the side - - he found himself rather less enthused than he'd been when he'd been fresh out of Crowley Community College. The good old days, when he hadn't been the only young follower of the Dark Order in town, back when the newly adult offspring of the earlier generation of the Crowley Satanic Society had still held a little enthusiasm for the faith.

Oh, they were still out there - - he'd done a little poking around the last month, when he'd had nothing better to do than wait to see if the new sect would retaliate against him for depriving them of their human sacrifice - - and he'd tracked down a few old acquaintances. Not friends particularly, his father had discouraged the development of close friendships - - but the children and grandchildren of devoted society members. And though no few of them admitted to still worshipping the Dark Lord, none of them cared particularly to devote the time and effort to actively enroll in a new society. There were jobs and families and mortgages to think about, and besides, hadn't the last active members of the society met a rather untimely death just last year? Really, the writing was on the wall.

Atticus was beginning to think the whole thing was a complete waste of his time, anyway. He'd been lied to and used and locked in a demonic hellscape that in no wise resembled anything out of the brochures and all he had to show for it was more of a complex than he'd started out with before, and the ill will of some very frightening leather/Satanists who not only disregarded his authority as Hooded Leader, but seemed intent on grinding it under their boots.

What was the point if he couldn't garner any followers? Besides, even if he could get his hands on the Book again, using its power would as likely screw him as royally as it would any other soul desperate enough to open its pages and beg a boon of the fickle thing. It knew one master and that master was skulking along the halls of Crowley high in a T-shirt with machine gun toting zombies and a bad attitude.

Atticus ascertained this when he happened upon Todd between second and third period bells looking like he was considering using the south hall exit that led to the football field and the bleachers where Atticus knew from studied observation that he and Curtis Weaver liked to hang out and smoke marijuana, instead of heading towards whatever class he was supposed to be attending.

"Skipping classes already? On the first day of school?"

"I'm not skipping class," Todd scoffed at him, giving him a sulky glare.

But since he seemed to be more on the defensive than the offensive today, and Atticus was on the secure turf of school grounds where his authority was marginally higher than your average high school senior, even if that senior was the Pure Evil One, he sneered right back.

"Well, the bell's about to ring and you're not in class, so I'm thinking a demerit might be in your future."

Todd gave him a dubious look. "Really? You too? What, is there like a new teacher's handbook that you guys got this year?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, nor do I care, but I for one will be taking my job seriously this year." Since it might turn out to be the only job he had if revitalizing the society didn't pan out. "Now off to class with you."

Atticus stabbed a martial finger in a random direction, hoping it was the right way. Todd gave him a sullen look, glanced once at the exit door a little longingly, then headed off, acquiescing to Atticus' authority.

It was something of a rush, that victory. Atticus stood a little taller, and straightened the tie poking out from above his blue plaid sweater vest. Perhaps it might not be such a bad year after all.

But then he hadn't met Ms. Abigail Irving yet. He'd seen her at staff orientation the week before school began, but hadn't been introduced. It was three days after the school session started that he had that dubious pleasure when she marched up to him accompanied by the clack of stiletto heels and the avid attention of every teenaged boy in the hall.

"Mr. Murphy." She had the most astounding posture for a woman so obviously top heavy. Like she'd been brought up under the tutelage of a military drill instructor.

"Yeesss," he agreed warily. The severity of her bun seemed wildly incongruous with the red of her lipstick. As did the tiny gold cross nestled within the bounty of her cleavage. "Atticus Murphy."

She lifted a brow. "Abigail Irving. Am I to understand that you are the guidance councilor here at Crowley High?"

"That is who I am." The level of his wariness increased. She was making his palms sweat just a little and previously only his father had had the ability to cause that phenomenon.

"I've taught at four high risk schools across the country and I must tell you, none of them have had the sort of troubles experienced here at Crowley High. I can only assume someone has not had their eye on the ball with detecting and dealing with problem students before their emotional issues become a danger to others. That someone is you, Mr. Murphy."

He blinked at her. "Every student in this school has emotional issues. It's called being a teenager - - maybe you've heard of it. I can't be held responsible every time an emotionally unbalanced high schooler makes a silly wish."

It was her turn to blink at him. She tightened her lips and stepped forward, part of her jutting into his personal space. He took a cautious step backwards to make room for her breasts and only noticed the folders she was thrusting at him at second glance.

"27 deaths, including two of the teaching staff is not a high schooler making a silly wish - - whatever that means. With vigilance and discipline I hope to turn this district's dismal reputation around. Here is a list of students that seem 'at risk'. I've spoken personally to school superintendent Michaels and he agrees that special attention needs to be given. "

"Spoken personally?" he raised a dubious brow, rather imagining her with a whip and thigh high boots having that conversation with the pot bellied superintendent, hence having him agree to any wild notion she came up with. Special attention indeed.

"Personally," she confirmed with an icy look and the tap of one long, French manicured nail on the top of the stack of folders in his hands.

He glanced down, saw the name on the index tab on the top folder and rolled his eyes. Of course. Todd Smith.

"There are some problems that are beyond my ability to fix." He gave her a simpering smile and said with as much sarcasm as he dared put into his tone. "But I'll do my best."

# # #

It was amazing how quickly people forgot all the trauma, all the blood, all the various gruesome deaths that had darkened the halls of Crowley High last year. It was like somebody on high - - or low as the case might be - - had pushed a 'reset' button and slate was wiped clean. Kids running through the halls without a care in the world, laughing, playing, making out, forming their little cliques as if the Book wasn't still out there, lying in wait to lure the weak and the desperate into its web.

It was disgusting and Jenny had the strongest desire to run the gambit of the hallway and slap each and every one of them upside the head, hoping to smack a little reality into their pea brains. A whole slew of naïve victims waiting to happen.

Even her own little circle of morons were caught up in the excitement of the new school year, conveniently forgetting their own set of problems. Little things like being the possible harbinger of world wide destruction, finding and containing the Book of Pure Evil, coming back from the dead in a cloned body that somebody had made with a purpose and probably an evil one in mind. It was like she was dealing with a bunch of kids with no sense of their own mortality that only wanted to get high, play video games, and desperately try and make out whenever the chance presented. Even Hannah, who was the most intelligent person Jenny had ever known, had sort of made a concerted effort that last month of summer vacation, not to dwell overlong on the mysteries of her own conception.

"It's the last summer before we graduate, Jenny," she'd said when Jenny had complained of their lack of serious pursuit of the Book. "I mean, maybe the last summer we get to be - - just kids - - and I feel like I was given this amazing second chance that most people never get - - I don't want to waste it. At least for a few more weeks."

Which was a damned hard argument to deny, because Hannah had _died_, but still, Jenny just felt this urgent need to be doing something. Anything other than whiling away those last hot weeks of summer being distracted by Todd, who always seemed to be around, giving her looks, slipping in innuendo that he probably thought was sly, but was anything but - - who had no problem whatsoever on those sweltering days, shedding his shirt and causing Jenny's own internal temperature to rise past safe norms. If he'd had any inkling what he was doing to her, he'd have hammered at her relentlessly and she'd have caved - - she so would have caved.

She kept vacillating on whether that might be a good thing or not. On the one hand, there'd be sex. Lots and lots of sex. On the other, she'd have a boyfriend, whether she wanted one or not, and she'd convinced herself that she'd had her full of that sort of attachment.

As usual, Jenny's more pessimistic angels won out. If in doubt she always tended to go the darker route. Denying herself something she wanted - - and yeah, she wanted him, she wasn't so self-delusional that she wasn't able to admit that - - on the off chance that she might not be 100 percent happy with the results, had become something of a creed for her.

So she put up shields and pushed him away, and he spent a good deal of the summer, frustrated and sulking over it, and putting an awful lot of energy into the sorts of things guys did to relieve those pent up tensions. Like skateboarding like he had a death wish at the big concrete drainage ditch he and Curtis like to frequent, or practicing his brand of video game martial arts in the back yard with Curtis until Curtis was half dead from heat stroke. Guy stuff.

So it was okay that he made doe eyes at the new teacher and whispered half of first period with Curtis about her various attributes, because he didn't owe Jenny anything. Besides, it wasn't like there was a popsicle's chance in hell any boy in school - - probably any male of any age - - was likely to get anywhere with her. She had the look of a woman with impossibly high standards and since there were no uber hot Scandinavian vampires/supermodels presently attending Crowley high, Ms. Irving was likely to retain her professional composure.

So three days into school and the routine was starting to sink in. She was at her locker stuffing the massive American Government text inside and retrieving her English Lit book, when someone brushed up against her from behind. First thought was, Todd was feeling lucky and adventuresome, because she had her taser in her purse and wasn't afraid to use it. But the hand that placed itself on the locker next to hers wasn't his, and the voice that purred into her ear was disturbingly familiar.

"Mmmm mmm, damn, but you look good enough to eat."

She stiffened, a little shiver of auditory memory shuddering through her. She hadn't seen his face, but she remembered the voice. Remembered the taunts and the threats while she'd been a captive of the metal Satanists. Of course they'd all figured he'd been a part of it, Todd knew from painful first hand experience, and they hadn't blindfolded him, but hearing his voice and having him so close behind her drove it home like a nail through her palm.

She turned, her hand sliding casually down to rest on her purse where the taser was nestled. A jolt to the nuts and Randy Savage would think twice about harassing her again.

She smiled up at him, looking up from under her lashes, like it actually mattered. "You think I 'm pretty?"

He grinned down, long face, but nice bones, deep eyes that were as blue as her own. A year ago, if he hadn't been Satanist dog twat, he would have been just the sort of self-centered asshole that would have caught her eye.

"Baby, you are so hot. The things I'd do to you - -"

"Like slit my throat?" she asked, her hand sliding over the cool plastic casing of the taser. "Things like that?"

It didn't faze him. His grin just got wider, and he leaned close. "Naw, I like my cunt hot and wet, and corpses, they don't cream when you lick them- -"

She curled her lip in disgust, ready to rock his world with 300,000 volts of electricity.

She didn't get the chance. Todd was just there, jerking Randy backwards and swinging him face first into the lockers.

Then it was just free for all, Randy getting his footing and swinging at Todd, and kids scattering, some scrambling away from the scuffle, others shoving through the panicked mess to get a ringside view. Jenny swore and got herself out of harm's way as they rebounded off the lockers. It would serve them right if she got out the taser and just started randomly zapping. Randy deserved it on general principle, and damnit, how many times did she need to tell Todd that she could take care of herself?

But then vice principal Dixon and Ms. Dempsey were wading through the ring of students egging on the fight, Ms. Dempsey blowing her whistle like she was trying to wake the dead, Mr. Dixon yelling for the gathered students to get back to class even as he heaved his considerable bulk in between Todd and Randy, pressing Todd back against the wall of lockers while Ms. Dempsey pushed Randy back.

"What the hell is wrong with you kids?" Ms. Dempsey yelled. "Three days into the new year and you're already begging for detention?"

"He started it," Randy sneered, wiping blood off his mouth. Todd had gotten a good hit in there somewhere. Maybe a lot more than Randy had, because Todd wasn't bleeding, he was just glaring through his hair, breathing hard and fast and not bothering to come up with a defense.

"This asshole said the C word to me," Jenny declared, jerking her head towards Randy.

Mr. Dixon sucked in a breath and Ms. Dempsey's eyes narrowed.

She swung her gimlet gaze towards Randy. "That is not an acceptable word, young man."

"To the office with you. Now!" Mr. Dixon stabbed a finger towards administration and Randy glowered, but moved that way, the vice principal on his heels.

"You," Ms. Dempsey turned to Todd, who flicked a wary look at her, expecting the worst. "I'm letting you off with a warning this time, because I'd have been tempted to hit him myself if I'd heard him using that word. But you're on notice."

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, knowing a miraculous free pass when it was handed him on a gold platter.

Jenny blew out a breath, grabbed his arm before Ms. Dempsey could change her mind, and hauled Todd down the hall towards the lunchroom.

"Ow," he complained. "Your nails."

She was digging them in pretty viciously. She let up and glared. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with assholes on my own."

"Not his type of asshole," Todd declared earnestly, raking the hair out of his face. There was just the hint of a reddening mark by his temple, hinting that Randy had gotten in a good blow after all. "He's violent, Jenny."

"And you're not?"

He gaped at her, throwing his arms wide. "Towards people who don't deserve it? No. Fuck no. God, Jenny, how could you even say that? I was trying to protect you."

She felt a sting of guilt, because he had been trying to defend her, even if his methods tended towards gratuitous violence. And she had been just a little scared, before she'd talked herself out of it and decided to do a little violence of her own. She didn't want to play the part of damsel in distress. She didn't need a bodyguard, much less a white knight, even though Todd was sooty grey at best. Why was she was so screwed up that somebody caring enough about her to get into a fight to defend her honor made her so uncomfortable?

She took a breath and reached up to touch the mark at his temple. Just a light brush of her fingertips, but he froze and his eyes widened, fixed on hers, and she almost regretted it. But not quite. He deserved her softening her stance just a little for almost biting his head off. He deserved it for being there when any intelligent boy would have run for the hills long ago.

"Okay," she agreed. "But we've got to talk about trust issues. Mainly you trusting me to give a nice big yell if I actually need you to get into a knock down drag out for me, okay?"

He took a deep breath and she could see him trying to gather together the shreds of the focus she'd managed to scatter with that one touch. He nodded warily. "We can talk, but I can't promise anything."

"Fair enough." She'd take what she could get.

# # #

The Book went two whole weeks into the school year before it reared its ugly head. A serious crimp was put into the tryouts for the Crowley High marching band when a band geek eating monster trombone went wild on the football field where all the hopeful marchers were gathered. Only one actually band geek was devoured before Todd and Curtis managed to pound the trombone and subsequently the kid that had joined with his instrument into submission, but numerous instruments were mangled and destroyed in the process.

The book of course, blithely flapped away, but then Todd hadn't been putting much effort into catching it. He and Curtis ran like hell when Coach Dexter and Ms. Dempsey came charging onto the field with half the football team in reluctant tow - - but by then there were only dazed band geeks and one half devoured kid who'd had a trombone of his own. One could only assume he'd been in competition with the monster trombone kid over some choice spot in the lineup.

"I didn't know competition was so fierce to get into the marching band?" Curtis said afterwards, when they were in the nearest boy's bathroom washing off the blood. Well, mostly Todd was washing off the blood. Curtis had a few splatters, but Todd had been the major trombone basher and had gotten the brunt of the resulting detonation of Book monster. It was a good thing black didn't show up bloodstains. He just had to walk around in a shirt damp with it, until it dried.

They shuffled out, amidst a crowd of curious students with their faces pressed up against the windows overlooking the football field.

"That would have been a lot easier with Sand Dragon," Todd lamented.

"Not as messy, too," Curtis seconded. "You should try and repair it."

Todd shrugged. "Maybe. But - - to be honest, I'm not completely clear on how I made her to begin with. I mean, that whole day's sort of hazy and the Metal Dudes were like - - sorta more in my head than usual." He wasn't sure that was exactly right, but that had been a weird day all around.

"Yeah," Curtis shrugged. "It was sorta a bad day for me too. And a good one."

"The day you got Hannah," Todd nodded knowingly.

"And you didn't kill me."

"Yeah, that too."

"So it can't hurt to try and fix the sword."

"Todd Smith." That velvet over ice voice that could only belong to their new science teacher froze them in their tracks.

"Is that blood on your neck?"

He lifted a hand reflexively, figuring he'd missed a spot. People had pretty much taken it for granted last year that a little blood here and there was no big deal.

"Uhh - - maybe?"

"Were the two of you on the football field when the incident occurred?"

"What makes you think that?"

"We weren't anywhere near the football field, Ms. Irving."

They answered simultaneously.

Her gaze went from one to the other of them, before zeroing back in on Todd. "Mr. Weaver, don't you have a class to get to before the bell rings?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I have a class to get to, too," Todd reminded her, squirming a little under her gaze. She had on a pencil straight black skirt today and a thin white blouse that you could just make out the shape of her bra under. With her heels on she was at least four inches taller than he was which was weirdly hot.

Curtis cast him an apologetic look and scampered off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

"Have you kept your appointment with Mr. Murphy?" She pinned him with her lazar gaze.

"Umm - - what appointment?"

She pursed her lips, annoyed and snapped, "Follow me."

Which was sort of an easy command to follow, since in involved walking behind her and watching her ass in that tight skirt. He wished Jenny would wear shoes like that, but he'd only ever seen her in stilettos in his fantasies.

It was too short of a walk and it ended, unfortunately enough, at Atticus' office, where Todd preferred not to be. But there was no choice with her rapping on the door and opening it a second later before anyone could invite her in. Atticus fumbled to close the crossword puzzle book he'd been scrutinizing, and made a halfhearted grab for a folder off to the side of his desk.

"Yes, well - - Ms. Irving. To what do I owe - -oh, Todd."

"Am I to understand you haven't made the appointment with Mr. Smith we discussed?"

"I'm sorry, was there a schedule?" Atticus smiled tightly at her. She glared back.

Todd lingered in the doorway, wondering if maybe he could slip away if they started brawling. He started edging away, but Ms. Irving had an eagle eye and stabbed a finger at the chair in front of Atticus' desk and ordered.

"Sit down."

He muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and ambled in to slouch in the chair. He gave Atticus an unappreciative glare, which Atticus ignored in favor of staring at Ms. Irving.

"There was an incident on the playing field today." Ms. Irving said.

"Yes," Atticus drawled. "I heard. Those wild and crazy band geeks."

"Two students were killed."

"Freak accident?" Mr. Murphy managed to look aghast.

Todd gave him a look from under his lashes, not entirely unappreciative of Atticus' snark when it was directed some place other than him.

"Mr. Smith was on that field and has blood on him."

"I told you I wasn't."

"I think we need to talk about your anger issues, Mr. Smith." Ms. Irving, said, giving Atticus a pointed stare.

"Anger issues?" He glanced from Ms. Irving to Atticus, who rolled his eyes and let out a put upon breath.

"That little altercation between you and Randy Savage the other day?"

"Oh. Those anger issues."

Atticus sighed, propping his chin on his palm. "Teenagers and their hormonal changes. Testosterone is a dangerous thing."

"Mr. Murphy," Ms. Irving stomped one high heel in irritation.

Atticus smiled and quoted.

"This is a private, safe place for a student to discuss his or her emotional issues, and per guidance councilor confidentiality rules, third, non guidance councilorly parties aren't allowed be present. So thanks so much for your concern, but I can take it from here. Rules and regulations and all that, Ms. Irving. Bye bye."

Atticus gave her a look, and she straightened, eyes narrowing before she smiled tightly and nodded. "As you say. I'll leave it to you, then, Mr. Murphy."

Todd sat there and stared warily at Atticus. Atticus shrugged and went back to his crossword, tapping his pencil idly against his chin. "What's a six letter word for vomit? Starts with an 'E'?"

Todd stared at him.

Atticus sighed, looked at his watch and said. "Give it ten minutes, just in case she's skulking about. Then you can go on your merry way."

"Really?"

Atticus lifted a brow at him. "Unless you'd rather discuss your deepest emotional dilemmas? Did you want to talk 'feelings', Todd?"

"Not particularly," Todd narrowed his eyes.

"I thought not. Now be quiet. I've work to do."

Todd stared at the crossword puzzle, which didn't look school related. He hadn't thought much about Atticus after the thing with Jenny and the metal Satanists. Hadn't seen him for the rest of the summer break. If he'd been up to any weird stuff, he'd been keeping it on the down low.

"Are you still after the Book?" Todd asked.

"Why would I want the wretched thing?"

"I dunno. Why'd you want it before? Because you think hell's so great you wanna bring it up to earth?"

Atticus narrowed his eyes and the tapping of the pencil lead on the paper stopped. "Let me assure you, its not."

Todd sucked in a breath, figuring there might be first hand experience behind those words. If there was hell behind the pages of the Book that Atticus had experienced, then it had been him who'd sent him there. He wanted to ask, this morbid curiosity he couldn't shake, but there was something in Atticus' gaze that discouraged it. Saying something like, 'you asked for it,' seemed just a little too shitty considering what he'd done for Jenny.

"Yeah. I sorta figured. Sorry," he added that last really softly, and a little grudgingly, because he sort of was sorry, sending somebody to hell and all, but he still had a lot of issues with Atticus. A lot of grievances.

For a long moment, Atticus just stared at him with a wary sort of question in his eyes, then he swallowed and went back to his crossword.

"So," Todd said, for some weird reason actually not able to keep himself from talking, when usually when he was dragged into offices like this, his communication skills seemed to evaporate into dust. "Remember that wolf in your musical? That really happened, didn't it?"

The pencil slammed down and for a second Todd thought he was going to get yelled at, there was that sort of neck vein throbbing look on Atticus' face, but he got control of himself after a deep breath and pasted on a false smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about? Have you been smoking some sort of illegal substance today?"

"Not yet. And I just wanted to know, because I think I sort of met the same wolf."

Atticus stared, blinking slowly, then said sarcastically. "That doesn't sound like a cannabis fueled hallucination at all."

"Fine. Whatever." He sank deeper into the chair.

"There are no wolves in Crowley Heights."

"Right. Except for demonic ones."

Atticus opened his mouth. Shut it. Sat back in his chair with his hands gripping the edge of his desk and said tightly. "If one were to assume there might be the occasional wolf roaming the woods of Crowley Heights - - what occasion would you have had to run into one?"

"I just - - the night those other Satanists brought the Book back - - it was there. Sort of. You know it's like those three douche bags who hang out in the parking lot, right?"

"No I don't know. You're talking nonsense."

"It _is_ them. They turn into it. Don't ask me how. I was hoping you'd know."

Atticus' hands slipped off the desk to lay limply on his lap, his gaze going hazy and distant.

"That's - - crazy. Simply - - don't tell me what's crazy you wrinkled old fart - - just shut up. Shut up."

He was muttering to himself, and Todd had the distinct impression none of those words were directed towards him. It sort of made him want to scoot his chair back a little ways just in case Atticus jumped up and started waving around a knife or something.

Atticus finally swung his gaze back around to Todd and snapped in a fairly accusatory way. "First of all, I don't know what you're talking about. Secondly - - our session is over. You may leave now and if that high-heeled Nazi inquires, all your issues are on their way to being resolved."

He had no argument whatsoever with getting up and fleeing.


	14. Chapter 13

13

Atticus sat staring at nothing in particular after Todd left his office. Sat listening to the sound of that echoing silence that graced the school when class was in session and the halls were barren of noisy, annoying teenage life for a blissful 40 minutes.

The pencil snapped in his fingers, broken clean in two with a sharp crack that broke the quiet. "Motherfucker. Shit sucking, ass licking, fuck - - fuck - - _fuck!"_

It started out a bare whisper, but the glass on his door rattled on that last bellowed curse. The contents of his desk were swept aside, his phone tossed with a jangling, halfhearted ring of protest against the wall.

Conniving, lying, betraying bastards. And that covered any number of persons. His father first and foremost. If Todd wasn't lying - - and what reason would he have to? - - Atticus' father had _known_. Of course he'd known. The old man had hoarded his secrets like a miser hoarding gold, reveling in his son's ignorance. And those three parking lot derelicts had the balls to walk into his lair and face him as if they hadn't been a party to - - the main party to - - the worst trauma of his life. Well, up until his stint within the pages of the book.

"Sons of bitches," he balled his fists and swept out of the shambles he'd made of his office, adrenalin racing through his veins like he'd been mainlining caffeine. The rapid clap of his footfalls echoed in the empty halls as he stalked past classrooms full of children eager to learn - - _not_ - - and out the front entrance towards the parking lot.

They were there. They were always there, loitering about school grounds like some sort of lingering communicable disease. Infectious. That's what they were, selling their drugs and their contraband and tainting the very air around the school.

"Sweater dude," they hailed him as he stormed onto the asphalt to confront them.

"Look at you, back from hell and lookin' good," The blonde one remarked and the others smirked.

"For a loser," the Asian sneered.

"You lied to me," Atticus accused. "Was there ever even a chance I was the Pure Evil One?"

They seemed to find that amusing. The blonde inhaled from the no doubt illegal substance they were sharing and shrugged. "Sure, there's always a chance."

"A chance in hell," the Asian snickered.

The one with the greasy brown hair flicked the nub of the exhausted joint onto the ground at Atticus' feet. "The Book'll always surprise you."

"And that little 'ceremony' all those years ago with the wolf? What did that have to do with the Book?"

He'd hoped to catch them off guard with that indictment, to call them out on some great dark secret - - because really, a raging case of lycanthropy seemed the sort of thing people would want to keep on the down low. But it only seemed to amuse them all the more.

They laughed.

"So you figured that out, did you?" The brown haired one asked through his chortling.

"Not as stupid as we thought," The Asian sneered through his sly grin.

Atticus glared, offended. "He told me it was the ritual of Lupis. That my sacrifice would please the Dark Master and prepare me for something greater."

The blonde snorted, slapping his thigh. "Yeah, your old man, he bought that one hook, line and sinker. It wasn't for anything but fun, dude. The wolf, he gets horny. Gotta feed the beast once and while."

He gaped at them, at their amusement at his expense. Shock turned to anger and he ground his teeth and stabbed a finger at them.

"You three have been blighting school property for long enough. I'll go to the principal, the district administrator and the police and have you and your bad influences banned from school grounds."

Brody snorted. "The cops that buy their weed from us will be sorry to hear that."

"And the district administrator" The brown haired one smiled. "We got a few pictures of him doing naughty things with an under aged, high school drop out."

The all snickered.

Atticus drew himself up, trying to think up an adequate response to the dashing of his threats.

The blonde cut him off, with a cold grin. "Don't push us, Sweater Dude. You wouldn't like us if we got pissed."

As one their eyes flashed gold, lupine almost, the gazes so identical for that moment, so beyond the intensity that a human eye could achieve that Atticus staggered back a step, his heart lodged up in the area of his esophagus.

"You're out of allies, man," the blonde said. "Killed the ones you had, and pissed off the one's that might have been. I'm thinking you need to tread carefully."

"Real carefully, loser."

"What are you?"

They didn't even laugh at him that time, just lit up another joint and stared at him how he imagined a pack of wolves might stare down prey they were too full to actually chase. He took a step backwards, and another, the hair on his neck on end and tried to make his retreat look like nothing more than a casual saunter.

They were right, he was out of allies on the Satan worshipping side of the tracks.

But Satanists weren't the only game in town.

# # #

Curtis and Todd stared at the cold forge in the corner of the shop class. There were old ashes in the furnace, and spots of dried blood on the floor. The blood belonged to Curtis, a byproduct of Todd cutting off the monster arm spawned by the Book. The ashes were from the forging of Sand Dragon.

Todd remembered the former in vivid detail. The latter was a bit hazy, like the fine points of a movie watched while he was completely, utterly baked.

"Dude," he looked at Curtis helplessly. "I don't have a fucking clue where to start."

He raised the surviving portion of the sword, a good two feet of roughly hewn blade. The edge was still sharp but Atticus had broken off the upper half when he'd been a little more than a man, a little less than a goat at last year's fateful semi-formal.

"I mean, how did I even do this in a day anyway?" He stared at it in complete bafflement, trying to squeeze concrete memories of its forging out of an uncooperative memory.

"Do you think something supernatural-like happened? Did they mess with your head?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't think this is gonna happen."

"Okay, this is going to sound off the wall, but maybe we could find a book on sword making?" Curtis suggested.

Todd gave him an exasperated look. "I'm more show and tell over read and learn."

"Yeah, me too." Curtis sighed, patting him on the shoulder. "So, you wanna go get high instead?"

There wasn't much else to do, other than actually attend English Lit and they were doing poetry this week and poetry made Todd's head hurt. He looked at Sand Dragon one more mournful time and shrugged.

"Might as well."

# # #

Four weeks into school and summer faded into fall, as summer tended to do. The days grew shorter, the weather cooler. The Book behaved as erratically as ever, cropping up here and there in unexpected ways. They stopped the manifestations they could stop, and waited out the inevitable end of the ones they couldn't. Todd was all about bashing monsters, but not so much about actually catching the Book.

"You're afraid to have it in your hands again, aren't you?" Jenny finally called him on it one day, after an incident in the cafeteria involving several traumatized lunch ladies and a seething mound of cafeteria food.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he scoffed, denying such a claim with reflexive disdain.

"You're afraid of fat people," Curtis reminded him helpfully.

Todd tossed him a glare, before turning back to Jenny who was leaning on the bleacher giving him a critical stare. Ms. Irving had put a serious crimp in their gang meetings. The science lab where they'd had free reign last year was now under the rule of the new teacher. It was free a few periods a day, but you never knew when she was going to show up and complain that they weren't attending class. So they gathered where they could, when they were free, to talk book related stuff.

Today they were on the bleachers inside the empty gymnasium during senior free period. The floor was shiny from a recent buffing, the goat's head logo leering up from the center.

"It's okay, if you are," Jenny was saying. "We understand."

"It is a perfectly reasonable fear," Hannah seconded. She was cleaning Curtis' metal arm, digging out bits and pieces of food from the moving parts. "After all, we don't know if just contact with the Book might trigger your connection to it."

"If I can get a hold of it without you having to touch it, I will, dude," Curtis promised solemnly.

And it was one thing if the girls were talking about him behind his back, but if Curtis was in on it - - that was just annoying.

"I'm not afraid of the Book. Why would I be? I'm its master, right? It should be afraid of me."

"Yeah, how's that working out for you?" Jenny asked dryly. "It hasn't really been showering you with respect."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the seat behind him, staring up at the beams in the ceiling.

"Have you tried," Hannah asked. "To exert control any of the times you've encountered the Book this year?"

He hadn't. Not since the retirement home when just the filaments of the thing had been enough to let him set the place ablaze. The resulting pain was also branded into his memory. Both pretty decent reasons not to want anything to do with the Book.

"No."

Jenny just nodded, like she'd known all along.

"It would be interesting to see if you could, without actually drawing power from it," Hannah said. But Then Hannah was all about gathering facts and compiling data. She had notebooks full of it, just like her parents before her.

"Yeah? And if it doesn't work out so well, you might regret saying that."

Jenny leaned over him, the ends of her hair brushing his shoulder, her blue eyes lacking that spark of cynicism they usually held. "We trust you, Todd."

He caught his breath, things lurching inside. Her hair smelled like strawberries. He wanted to reach up and touch it, to grasp it in his hand and pull her closer, but that would probably banish that look on her face and she'd mock him for the attempt. Not to mention, Curtis and Hannah being right there.

"Yeah, we trust you, dude," Curtis seconded Jenny's declaration. "And you can trust us to be there if you need us."

He shut his eyes, blocking out Jenny's face. Their loyalty made his throat clog up a little, but they didn't understand. They couldn't understand. Their faith was groundless, based on one fluke moment when he'd been more interested in the heaven Jenny represented than bringing on the hell the Book might unleash. If he hadn't sent the Book away and banished the temptation, who knew what could have happened. He didn't have that option now. Not with the threat it represented to Hannah. And still they were gung ho about getting it and trying to contain it. Because they _trusted_ him.

Fuck. Just - - fuck.

# # #

It was Thursday during lunch when the Book decided to wreck havoc again. Todd had predicted the catalyst between classes two bells before when they'd passed Alice Bernstein pressed against her locker, being taunted by three of the 'popular' girls. The subject of the taunting today was her collection of Dustin Reiber buttons, book bag and various other licensed paraphernalia. She wore a homemade t-shirt with a big I 'heart' Dustin, on the front.

"As if he'd even look at you," one of the girls had been taunting.

"He'd puke if he saw you," another sneered. "You're just pitiful."

"That's not true, I'm the moderator of the Dustin Forever fan club. He's even responded to one of my letters."

They all cackled at that. "Sure he has. He has people that do that for him, you sniveling little blob. Don't you know anything?"

That's not true," Alice had cried. "He's thoughtful and wonderful and one day I'm going to meet him."

"He sucks balls," Todd had said, having caught the hind end of that exchange as he and Curtis passed. "She's so gonna get the book."

"Probably," Curtis agreed.

And, sure enough, come lunch when they were valiantly trying to choke down cafeteria sloppy Joes, the hallway outside erupted in screams. Kids were running in, looking over their shoulders with wide, frightened eyes. The lunch ladies gave up their posts and scampered for the exit. Most of the students in the cafeteria did the same, having learned the hard way that in Crowely High when the shit hit the fan, usually casualties were a given.

Todd sighed, tossing his half eaten sandwich down. Curtis stuffed the rest of his into his mouth, swallowing furiously.

"Well, lunch sucked today, anyway," Jenny said cheerfully, as if fighting off Book spawn was the highlight of her day. Considering he was the one that usually ended up getting spattered in gore, guts or other unsavory byproducts of monster killing, he supposed she might as well look at it as an interesting break in an otherwise boring day.

They edged out into the now deserted hall. There was a girl sprawled against a bank of lockers, a bloody smear trailing down from a huge dent, where her head had obviously connected with some force.

Hannah paused to check for a pulse and shook her head negatively.

"That's one of the girls that was picking on that Alice girl," Curtis pointed out.

"Told you," Todd moved down the hall towards the sounds of distant screams. There were another couple of kids sprawled in the hallway, but they were alive. Bloody and dazed, but alive.

"The gym, he went into the gym." One of the kids raised his arm and pointed.

"He?" Jenny asked.

The kid shook his head and mumbled, "Its horrible," before passing out.

"That doesn't bode well," Jenny said, but Todd just shrugged. What Book spawned evil was ever a joy to deal with?

So the gym it was. The doors were open and there was a big trail of red on the hardwood floor leading in. A chorus of screams preceded a crash and before they could quite get in, a girl in gym clothes came tearing out through the doors.

He held up a hand, cautioning the girls to hang back, just in case something tried to take off his head when he braved the doorway. He exchanged a look with Curtis, who nodded, a silent agreement to have his back, then plunged into the gymnasium.

And stopped, staring with wide-eyed shock at the apparition in the center of the gym. It was a pretty good likeness of the mega popular pop star, Dustin Reiber, right down to the baggy pants and the backwards baseball cap. Save for the fact that it was about seven feet tall and had a head swollen to twice the size of a normal human head. The skin looked a little like it was molded from play doe or clay. Oh and the eyes. They were black as pitch and creepy as hell. It was stalking a group of girls around the gym like a Border collie herding sheep and was hauling Alice Bernstein behind it by the hair.

"Oh, my. It looks like a golem," Hannah said, peeking from around the door.

"Oh my God, his head is huge." Was Jenny's gasped observation.

"Symbolism at play?" Curtis said and Todd had to turn back and look at him skeptically. Sometimes Curtis' brain just sparked and he'd channel his inner philosopher. Curtis pantomimed a larger than life head, explaining for those members of the gang that might have been a little slow on the uptake. "You know, because he thinks he's so much cooler than he actually is?"

Todd turned back around, shrugging. Kicking this thing's ass might actually be fun. He grabbed a wooden bat out of the equipment bin, and tested the weight experimentally. It had a good heft. He could crack an overdeveloped monster skull with it, no problem.

"Look at the cap," Hannah pointed. It was leathery and flesh colored and where a logo might have been above the bill, was the familiar symbol from the cover of the Book. Figured.

"Hey dickhead!" he yelled, as the Reiber golem was making a grab for a fleeing girl.

The thing turned, face screwed up in indignant outrage. Todd held out his arms, presenting a nice big target. Curtis was edging along the bleachers, waving the girls to make a run for it while Todd had the thing distracted.

"Your music sucks, dude," Todd gave his critical opinion. "Sounds like two cats screwing on a turntable."

"No, no." Alice was moaning, staggering in the wake of her wish. "Don't listen to him."

Todd rolled his eyes, circling towards the other end of the court as the Reiber lumbered after him. "What the fuck did you wish for? A Dustin Reiber Frankenstein?"

"I just wanted him to come and take me away from all this."

"Oh, is that all?" "Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster," Jenny and Hannah offered simultaneously from the doorway.

"Thanks for that, Hannah," He dodged a swipe from the thing and darted in to slam the bat against the back of one leg. It wasn't that quick on its feet, but it was apparently rock solid, because the leg barely buckled.

It pissed it off though. It roared and swung the weapon it had on hand, which happened to be Alice Bernstein. She rocketed towards Todd, and he barely managed to avoid getting flattened by her. She clipped him on her way towards the basketball hoop, though. She didn't avoid that and hit with a sickening crunch, sliding down the pole in the sort of crumple that suggested bones were no longer aligned the way they were supposed to be.

He scrambled backwards as the Reiber bore down, reaching for the bat that the impact with Alice had knocked out of his hand. It was practically on him when it staggered, knocked off its balance, hit in the back of the neck by a bat flung by Curtis, who stood down the court, waving his arms and yelling.

"This way you pretentious lump of shit."

The Reiber swung its coal gaze towards Curtis, obviously torn between who to smash to a pulp first. Todd chose not to give it time to make the call, snatching the bat up and swinging it full force up between the golem's legs. Whether a book spawned, clay automation had balls or not - - well, that was anyone's guess - - but he must have hit something vital, because the knees folded in and the mouth went from a toothy snarl to an O of shock. He followed up the nut cruncher with a two handed undercut that connected the tip of the bat to the point of the golem's oversized pixie jaw. The head exploded in a spray of wet clay and red globular, Jell-O textured goop. Then the whole of the body disintegrated, peppering him with disgusting debris. The cap flew off, hovering in the air as it transformed back into the Book.

For a second, he almost let it go. But if he did, he'd get their knowing looks and their sympathetic support and he didn't want it. He hissed through his teeth and reached out, snatching it out of the air in mid-flap.

And he _felt_ it. It was like touching a live wire - - low voltage electricity buzzing through him, charging every nerve ending in his body. Utter clarity slapped him in the face. Awareness of a vast, broiling ocean of black power waiting to be tapped. Begging to be tapped. Coiling around him like he was catnip and the tendrils of sentient energy from within the book, a horny cat. It would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. It would remake the world for him, if he let it.

"No," he breathed. His fingers had barely closed on the book. Curtis had barely taken a step towards him, still in the spot he'd been when Todd had cracked the bat upside the Reiber's head. _No._ He repeated it in his head, wanting it to back down, wanting it to shut the fuck up and get out of his head.

And surprisingly enough, it did. The awareness of that infinite power eased off and the book was just dead weight in his hand. He laughed a little breathlessly, time beginning to run in a normal fashion again. The girls reached him the same time Curtis did, all of them stepping carefully to avoid the remains of the golem.

"Oh my God, you got it." Jenny whispered in awe.

"You thought I couldn't?" He grinned at her, feeling cocky. It had been easy and he'd been scared shitless about even getting near the thing for weeks now, for nothing.

"_You_ thought you couldn't," Curtis reminded everyone.

"We should leave before someone comes," Hannah said, tip toeing through the mess on the floor and heading towards the side doors. They burst outside, onto the grassy lot between the gymnasium and the auxiliary parking lot. There were a lot of kids mulling, having wisely fled the school when the outbreak of crazy began. Todd held the book to his chest, hiding the distinctive front cover.

"What do you have there, former gang members?" Atticus was right there on the sidewalk, staring with narrow eyed intensity at the book.

"None of your business," Jenny snapped. Hannah and Curtis were edging in front of Todd, trying to hide the book that Atticus had already seen.

"Just get out of our way," Todd suggested.

"I don't want the thing," Atticus said airily. "As far as I'm concerned, it's a ticking time bomb. I'd just like to know what you're planning on doing with it? _Do_ you have a plan?"

"Not per say," Hannah said defensively before Todd could suggest Atticus fuck off. "But I've got some ideas."

"Well, and I'm just saying - - you might benefit from the accumulated knowledge of several hundred years of research on the thing." Atticus shrugged.

"Satanist research?" Jenny sneered.

"You have research?" The R word snared Hannah like bait in a trap.

"Of course," Atticus said as if they were idiots for not assuming it from the very start.

Todd just wanted to move. To get the book somewhere away from all these people, to lock it in a box so he could breath again. They could stand here all day and bicker with Atticus if they wanted - - he had to go.

"Whatever," he muttered, and cut onto the grass, moving around them. And he saw Nikki through the mulling students, her dark gaze cutting through the swath of confused kids like a blade. Then the crowd shifted and he lost sight of her. He faltered a step, trying to see her through the throng. He moved that way, and it wasn't her he caught sight of again, but Brody, moving through the kids towards him. But Brody was never alone. Sure enough, there was Rob off to the right, and Eddie easing in from the left and why the hell were Curtis and Jenny and Hannah still back there, letting Atticus distract them?

His heart was hammering and there was no good reason for it. It wasn't like they would try anything right in the middle of school, in the midst of a crowd. But a flash of the woods came back to him, of darkness and terror and the glow of wolf eyes in the shadow. The kids on the grass were like ghosts, slow moving and translucent forms that Metal Dudes seemed to glide though, like wolves on the hunt.

He'd been helpless then, he wasn't now. He had power in his arms. The moment he thought about it, the Book throbbed, begging him to take just one hit, just one taste of it and he could teach those three bastards and whatever else lived inside them a lesson they wouldn't forget.

He knew he could control it. Knew it would bend to his will. It had before. So he took that drag of infinite power - - felt it surge through him, so much greater than the tiny sparks of it had been at the retirement home - -

And his chest exploded. The pain flared like someone had doused him in kerosene and lit a match, sudden, blinding agony. He went down, knees in the grass, deafened by it, everything numb save the pit of pain in his chest. Agony that throbbed in time with the rush of his blood.

He clutched at it, fingers tearing at his shirt, trying to dig the source of the pain out of him. He folded over his thighs, trying to breath past the fire. There were hands on him, people talking at him, but it was all white noise.

"It's okay. It's okay. Breathe. Todd, breathe." Jenny had his face in her hands, kneeling there in the grass in front of him, trying to get him to focus. His hands were empty, the book gone. There was wetness in his mouth that tasted like blood. He hoped it was blood and not tears. That would be more humiliating than loosing the book.

"I lost it - -"

"It's okay, dude," Curtis had his hands on his shoulders, shoring him up from behind, and the kids in the yard, no longer pale ghosts were staring with wary curiosity.

"Nikki - - the Metal Dudes - - they were - -" he mumbled. "I tried to use it - -"

"We should find someplace a little quieter," Atticus was still there, staring across the quad at the sheriff's cars that had just pulled up, finally getting around to responding to the latest disturbance. The principal and Ms. Irving were striding out to meet them. Ms. Irving was looking their way.

"Now," Atticus said and reached down to pull Todd up. Curtis got on his other side, when his knees went rubbery and the world spun.

By the time they'd reached the main building and the quiet of deserted hallways, Todd's legs were working. He shrugged off the support, embarrassment making him surly. He didn't know what had happened back there - - that moment where things had gone surreal and weird. Like they'd been messing with his head. Like they'd goaded him into tapping into the Book's power, because they'd known what would happen.

They were in Atticus' office and he didn't exactly recall agreeing to go there. Four sets of eyes were fixed on him and a vague sense of panic set in.

"Are you okay?" Jenny asked.

He shrugged and flopped down on Atticus' couch. She sat down next to him, watching him with narrow eyed speculation.

"It happened again, didn't it?" Hannah had her laptop out and had it perched on the edge of Atticus' desk. "You tried to use the power of the book and the rune on your chest reacted."

"What's this about a rune?" Atticus asked.

Todd cast Atticus a glare from under his hair, not particularly wanting to share the miserable details of that with him.

"Why were you trying to use the book, dude?" Curtis asked. "That's bad news."

"I know," Todd snapped. "You didn't see the Metal Dudes. And Nikki?"

"I didn't see anybody but kids," Jenny said.

"What, they were all there?" Curtis asked.

"Not at the same time," Todd muttered. He could not believe they hadn't seen them. They'd been like razors slicing across his skin, he'd been so aware of them. The fact that none of the others had even noticed them made him doubt his own sanity a little. "It was like - - I don't know - - they were stalking me or something and I freaked out, okay? Give me a break."

"Dude," Curtis held up his hands. "We're not bitching at you."

"Well," Atticus shrugged, one hip against the edge of his desk. "If you were prepared to use a book designed to bring about the destruction of the world as we know it - - perhaps a little bitching is in order."

"Like, you're one to talk." Jenny snapped. "And why are you even here?"

Atticus smiled at her tightly. "I was just saying. And it is my office."

"You said you had records," Hannah broke into the spat, turning the laptop screen so Atticus could see. "Have you ever seen this mark?"

He bent to peer at the image, which was a close up shot of a weathered looking mark on stone that sort of looked like the one on Todd's chest.

"Ah. No. But then, I haven't perused all of my father's old documents in detail." Atticus hedged.

"Where'd you find that?" Jenny got up to look closer.

"I've been doing some corresponding with a few religious scholars, a few historians that specialize in archaic symbolism. I sent them the picture of Todd's mark - -"

"God, you've been passing it around?" Todd accused.

Hannah blinked at him, surprised at his tone of accusation.

"I was running into dead ends on my own," Hannah said. "I've been corresponding with a professor religious history in Jerusalem and he believes there are portions of the rune that have ancient Semitic aspects, as well as occult. He's only seen one other mark like it and that's this one." She tapped the monitor. "It was found on a tomb thought to be some fifteen hundred years old and they think it was a binding rune. They think that the people who marked that tomb were so fearful of what lay within that they bound the holy and the unholy together to contain it."

"Well, that's sort of fucked up," Jenny said.

Todd just stared, that vague panic he'd been feeling rushing up on him full speed. "Something like the Pure Evil One?"

Hannah shrugged. "We don't know for sure that you were the first one the Book ever chose as its master."

Curtis asked something, sounding confused, but Todd couldn't quite register the words from the sound of blood rushing in his head. They were talking about it - - about him - - like they were talking about the weather or the latest movie they'd seen. And not one of them had the barest clue what it felt like when the power pulled at them, or the pain ate them up from the inside out when they succumbed to the temptation.

He shot up of a sudden, needing to be out of this room, and out of this school.

"I'm not a fucking research project, Hannah," he yelled at her, before jerking the door open and stalking out.

He barely saw her wide eyes, or Curtis' narrow look, not caring who he pissed off. He didn't hear Jenny come after him until she grabbed his arm.

"You're a real bastard. She's just trying to help you, asshole."

"I don't want her help. I don't want your help. Leave me the fuck alone."

She shoved him, hard, both hands against his chest. His back hit the wall of lockers and he almost thought she was going to hit him again, she had that furious look in her eye. She kissed him instead. He went sort of weak kneed again from surprise as she pressed against him, fingers digging into his hair, her lips soft and wet, her mouth hot and demanding. It was like getting hit by her taser, the shock of it, the feel of her breasts flattened against his chest driving away all the memory of the pain that had eaten him up there not so long ago. He wanted to moan her name but he was too busy trying to suck on her tongue and slide his hands down her back to her ass.

She broke it, pushing back with her hands on his ribs. She was breathing hard, her eyes bright like diamonds. His hands were still on the sacred ground of her ass. He was really, really hard under his jeans.

"You were freaking out," she breathed.

"Okay," he was willing to agree to anything she wanted to accuse him of. He leaned back in, wanting her mouth again. She turned her face, and he got her cheek, but that wasn't so bad, because she was still pressed up tight against him, her belly against his aching erection.

"I didn't mean - -" she started, fishing for excuses.

"Please - -" he moaned it against her soft cheek, the scent of her hair making him high. She turned, brushed his mouth again, and her fingers tightened in his shirt, balling into fists when he deepened it, grinding her hips in a way that made him shed little pieces of sanity.

This time when she broke it, she pushed herself back, putting a few feet's worth of safe distance between them. "I just - - I thought you needed something to get your mind off - - you know?"

"It worked really well." He couldn't stop staring at her. His mind kept looping back to the kiss and the feel of her breasts.

"You need to apologize to Hannah."

"Okay."

"But not until you've got your head together."

He just stared at her.

She swallowed, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes flitted down. "And you should probably take care of that before you walk around in public."

He didn't even need to look down to know he was sporting a huge boner.

"It wasn't a big deal," she said lamely, before turning on her heel and abandoned him to it. He watched her ass for about half a dozen strides, but it didn't help the issue, so he shut his eyes and slammed his head back against the lockers a few times.

It wasn't a big deal. It was a huge deal. A monumental deal. She'd kissed him. She hadn't just kissed him - - she'd practically wormed her tongue down his throat and holy shit - - she'd wormed her tongue down his throat!

He laughed, a little giddy and felt like sliding down the wall and sprawling there in a euphoric daze of bliss.

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Author's Note

There are only 8 or 10 of you out there reading this, but I appreciate every one of you. Those of you who've reviewed - - thanks so much, because you've been insightful and flattering and there's nothing an author likes to hear more than what her readers think of their creation. To share the passion for the subject matter with like-minded people.

Geraldine asked about the confusion around the different story titles here and at my website. Basically, I suck at story titles. It was like pulling hair coming up with some sort of working title so I could start posting the story here and 'Same old song and dance' just flitted into my head for some reason or another. 'Bloodlines' came to me when I was working on chapter 15 or 16 and I'd hit on a major plot point and it just fit so much better. So technically, I like Bloodlines better. But, I didn't want to confuse people with a change of title on , so I left the old title.


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